Unreadable
by Everything-In-Focus-94
Summary: Sherlock meets a mysterious woman who he cannot read, with a horrific past. But what happens when the pair are thrust together and Sherlock finds himself caring for her. What happens when fate intervenes and their pasts catch up with them.
1. Chapter 1: Sherlock

Sherlock

"I'm Bored, John". The John in question froze, and stared absent minded at the newspaper in his hands.

"I said... I'm bored, John" the voice said again. John peered over the top of the newspaper at his flatmate who sprawling over the sofa opposite with his eyes closed, who would appear to be asleep to anyone who didn't know him. But John Watson knew him far too well and was secretly plotting his escape route from the apartment.

"I heard you the first time Sherlock, now can you please be quiet?" he muttered back.

Without bothering to move more than his head, Sherlock looked over at the man who was staring at the wall opposite, the tiny holes in it reminders of the last time Sherlock got _bored_. John pulled his newspaper back to in front of his eyes pretending to be engrossed in it.

"You're not really reading that John", Sherlock announced closing his eyes again. John lowered he paper slightly resting it in his lap. He turned the page as slowly as he dared.

"Yes I am Sherlock. Now will you please leave me alone" he said obviously less than enthused with the conversation he was having.

Sherlock smirked. He pushed himself up and sat feet on the floor, his elbows resting on his hands and his face in his hand.

"Right now remember I'm watching you John... I will give you £50 if you can tell me what the story is on the page you're reading right now" he said clearly enthralled with the predicament he had put his roommate in.

_Oh sod it!_ John thought. Whilst he had been contemplating whether the jump from the window would kill him he had turned to one of the ad pages in the back of the newspaper. _Come on John think, what's one of the news stories lately. Chilean miners trapped? Yes that'll have to do!_

"Ummm... there's some Chilean miners trapped. They reckon they'll be trapped till Christmas, can you imagine that?" he murmured as coolly as he could manage.

Sherlock smiled triumphantly.

"You owe me £50 John. You could have just said that you were looking for a new car. Not that I would have believed you... but even still" he said getting to his feet.

John looked at him flabbergasted as he crossed the room into the kitchen.

"How the- hell did..." John stammered, immediately regretting it as Sherlock turned on him.

"Simple. You have already read most of that paper today meaning that when you picked it up a few moments ago... clearly trying to avoid engaging in conversation with me, it means that you would have gone straight towards the pieces that you didn't manage to read the first time round. That would leave around 10 pages until you would reach the advertisement section. Of course when I stated that I was bored mere minutes ago you began to flip through the pages clearly not noticing what you were actually looking at, which did in fact leave you on the advertisement section." Sherlock said walking towards John who had placed his head in his hands to avoid looking at the man. Couldn't stop him hearing Sherlock, however.

"Add on the fact that the holiday advertisements are normally in bright colours to try and mask how truly horrible they actually are and the fact that you have a large smudge of black ink on your thumb I deduced that you were on the advertisements for vehicles, cars most likely due to the fact that the smudge contained slight hints of blue and red... Auto-trader correct?" he said leaning over John's shoulder. John subconsciously moved the paper away from Sherlock's prying eyes causing the lankier man to smirk once again, this time with glee.

"Go away Sherlock, I'll give you the rest later" John murmured, fishing in his pocket knowing full well he didn't have £50 on him. He found a twenty and placed it in Sherlock's waiting hand.

"Right then... I'm off. Lestrade wanted to see me." he said bounding down the stair, in a uncharacteristically happy voice. John groaned and flopped backwards realising that he had just given Sherlock his last twenty, for a bet, which it was obvious he would lose... that he didn't even really make in the first place.


	2. Chapter 2: My Hypothesis

My hypothesis

Sherlock walked out of the autopsy room at Scotland Yard practically glowing after his recent victory against John. £20 not bad for simply stating what he thought was as obvious.

Lestrade simply stared at him as he walked of down the corridor. He knew that something had gone on between Sherlock and his colleague since he had not accompanied him like he usually did. A lovers tiff as the boys down the station had joked, much to the doctor's dismay. And judging by Sherlock's... _unsherlock_ like disposition, it was apparent who had come out on top. Which of course was to be expected and... by George did that man nearly have a spring in his step?

"Weird" Lestrade muttered as he walked in the opposite direction, putting as much distance between him and the new happy Sherlock as possible.

Sherlock on the other hand was finding that his good mood was fading fast, the glow from the lack of boredom was becoming... well boring itself. He needed to find something else to do and fast. Without looking where he has going he turned a corner and smacked straight into a slim, woman who was carrying a book. The force was more than enough to knock the woman onto the floor, but Sherlock already in his pace barely noticed what happened. In fact he was as absent minded as he could possibly be.

The woman got her feet and dusted herself down. She flushed red with anger and glared at the man who was walking away as if nothing had happened.

"Excuse me an apology would have been nice! Couldn't you have looked where you were going! " she retorted loudly.

Sherlock span on the spot and faced her. She appeared to be getting redder by the second.

_Perfect. _He thought to himself.

"I could say the same to you" he said picking up the book that had fallen from her grasp. He sneaked a glance at the title. She snatched the book of him and crossed her arms over her chest.

"Well ok fair enough. But at least the decent thing would have to at least acknowledge me when I'm pretty sure you were the one that put most energy into the collision, since I was the one who ended up on the floor. Which in fact... adds to my hypothesis that you walked into me?" She said her voiced laced with sarcasm but high with anger.

Sherlock smirked.

"Not what you expected then? Your new job? From my experience which I have a lot off you seem to have the demeanour and sickly pale sheen of a new recruit going to a crime scene, which led you to dig out the old romance novel to take your mind of it. However, add on the fact that you have your hair tied back, you have reading glasses in your pocket which corresponds with your book and you casually used scientific principles in conversation, and I'm going to have to guess at Medical Examiner. Or a scientist... at the very least. " he said smugly as the girl stopped talking.

She uncrossed her arms and walked towards him.

"Not at all possible then... that I'm just not feeling well? And my sickly, pale sheen is from the flu that _I contracted_ yesterday. And as for this book" she said chucking it down on the table next to her. "I was quite frankly bored stiff and wanted to take my mind of feeling plain ill... not a crime scene as you seemed so confident about" . Sherlock huffed under his breath.

"Well you haven't just returned from a crime scene. You're probably just returning from autopsy or the lab. " he said _correcting _himself. The girl shook her head.

"Well for one autopsy is that way, where you've probably just come from judging from the slight frost on the collar of your coat. And I _really_ don't work here" She added sarcastically. Sherlock absentmindedly touched his coat collar.

He was completely stumped. He'd never been able to _not _get a read on someone before. The smirk transferred from his face to hers.

"Well it's safe to say sir... you've made this, interesting to say the least." She said taking the glasses from her pocket. She looked at them intently before looking back at Sherlock with one eyebrow raised. She pocketed them again.

"And as for hair up, glasses down equals some kind of scientist... at least." She said imitating Sherlock's drawling voice. "Well you shouldn't read people on just what you see... because these are my brothers. He left them at my house... I'm returning them to his on the way back home. And I just like my hair up... Simple as" She laughed, at the shocked expression on Sherlock's face before shaking her head and disappearing down the corridor.


	3. Chapter 3: Caught

Caught

John barely noticed the door slamming and Sherlock thundering up the stairs. He merely peeked out from the book he was reading to pass the time. Sherlock flopped onto his usual sofa and crossed his arms, staring at the ceiling.

"Interesting time in the real world?" John muttered. "I want my money back Sherlock, I didn't even bet you that I couldn't tell you what I was-" he was shocked as Sherlock took the now crumpled note from his pocket and chucked it onto the coffee table. John leaned over and picked up the money expecting Sherlock to make some retort that would end with him keeping the money but it never came. There was an uneasy silence in the room. Sherlock wasn't in his usual bored silence it was something else. He seemed _almost_ upset about something.

"Why couldn't I get a fix?" Sherlock whispered. John groaned.

"Sherlock I've told you, just have a damn cigarette!" he cried. Not the best advice from a doctor but he was living with a man who just left used patches all over the flat, many of which ended up on the soles of Johns feet when he was stupid enough to not wear socks and quite frankly, he was at the end of his tether.

Sherlock looked at him eyebrows raised.

"What are you on about John?" he drawled.

John sighed and closed his book.

"Ok what's wrong Sherlock?" he asked quietly.

"There was this woman at Scotland Yard!" Sherlock exclaimed making John jump.

John sighed again.

"What did she do? Kill her husband less than an hour ago and you knew this because she was wearing gloves to cover the blood because she couldn't wash her hands? Yet the police were yet to realize this, so you saved the day and caught the killer" he said sarcastically.

Sherlock glared at him.

"Don't be ridiculous John. Its winter, perfectly plausible that she would be wearing gloves". He paused contemplating his thoughts.

"She was just so goddam frustrating! I couldn't get a read on her!" he bellowed louder still.

"And that automatically means there's something wrong- hang on you_ couldn't_ get a read on her?" John said astonished as he processed what he had actually just heard.

"Yes John, I couldn't get a read on someone. And close your mouth, you'll let flies in" the collected and insulting Sherlock was back.

"Anyway I need your help with something, get your coat" he said jumping to his feet and physically throwing his coat at him. John had wondered why he hadn't taken his coat and scarf off when he came into the house. He shrugged on his coat as he ran after Sherlock.

"This isn't about this girl is it?" he shouted after him.

"No, course not" Sherlock shouted back from downstairs.

* * *

"Sherlock- who's –house? Ow that was my face.." John grunted as Sherlock's foot collided with his cheekbone.

"Hang on... Got it!" he said triumphantly as the lock on the fire escape clicked and the staircase swung down. Sherlock let out a slight _oof _as took his foot of John's shoulder and half- fell ,half –jumped back onto the floor. He straightened up and looked up into the flat above. He started up the staircase. John followed as quietly as possible.

"Sherlock, whose apartment is this?" John whispered. Sherlock said nothing but looked back at him slightly flushed. John who hadn't even realised that Sherlock could look as sheepish as he just did, and he realized what was going on immediately.

"Oh Sherlock! Were breaking into this girls flat aren't we? I mean did you follow her home or something?" Silence. "Oh my god you followed her home! Sherlock!"

"I have to know who she is!" Sherlock hissed at him.

"Wow Sherlock this _takes highly-functioning sociopath_ into a new level... can't you just let it go?" John said pushing himself in from of him. He knew full well what answer to expect.

"Look I can't let it go... There was just something about her" he said through gritted teeth. That was not the answer he expected. John looked at him curiously.

"You like her don't you?" he said slowly. Sherlock glared at him.

"I thought girlfriends weren't your area. I thought you were-"

"For the last time, John!" Sherlock butted in. "Just because I haven't found a girl I've connected with in a while."

"Oh so you admit that you connected with her?" John taunted. Sherlock eyes narrowed even further.

"Look can we just get on with this" he snapped forcing his way past John and before he could object Sherlock was halfway through the window.

"Oh for Christ sakes" John muttered, starting after him.

* * *

Sherlock winced as he eased his way into the apartment. The window did not make for an elegant entrance. And add to the fact that he was far from a short man and had cracked his head on the frame no less than two... 3 times.

Slowly but surely he felt his feet touch carpet. He gingerly took a few steps into the flat ignoring the grunts and groans of John making his way through the window.

The flat was clean-_ish_, slightly cluttered in the main lounge area but overall mainly neat and tidy. Sherlock peered into the kitchen and saw a several dirty saucepans in the sink even though there was a dishwasher humming in the corner.

"Must have turned it on before she had her meal" Sherlock muttered to herself. John tapped him on the shoulder having finally made it through the window.

"Sherlock! This is breaking and entering. Sure I make some exceptions when it's involved in a case but this is just because you met one person who you couldn't deduct something from." John hissed at Sherlock who had picked up something from the sideboard and was currently examining it with a look of pure concentration on his face.

"John, what would you say that this says about her?" he said brandishing the object under his nose.

"Are you listening to a word I'm saying?"

"Over 50 years old... interesting I would only have guessed at her to be about my age ,so I must assume that it was either bought in a charity shop within the last 10 years or passed down through the generations, and it's here for sentimental values. Most likely the latter since the apartment is almost completely void of anything personal excluding a bit of washing and a few books. I knew she liked books. What's that noise?" he muttered under his breath, not really directing it towards anyone.

John sighed and closed his eyes.

"Sherlock... ok you've got something about her can we-"he was silenced as a something collided with the back of his head. He crumpled to the floor as Sherlock span at the noise to meet the furious eyes of the girl he had met at the station, wearing nothing but a towel and brandishing a frying pan.

"What the hell are you doing in here!" she shrieked. John rolled on the floor and clutched his head where the pan had hit him. She glared at him and turned back to Sherlock.

"Well? What are you-" she started. Her eyes widened in realisation as she recognised Sherlock.

"YOU!" she shouted. She backed towards the wall one hand holding the saucepan, one hand desperately trying to cover herself with a towel.

"How'd you get the saucepan?" Sherlock said carefully.

"Yes because you're in the position to be asking me questions" she hissed before falling silent. Sherlock looked at her expectantly.

"There's another doorway round the corner" she muttered. Sherlock nodded.

"So what are you doing here? Someone send you to finish me off? Is that what that whole little thing in the station was about? If so.." she said looking down at where John was still heaving himself to his feet , whilst rubbing his head. She looked back at Sherlock, a slight smirk on her face.

"No it's not that. No offence but you don't seem like the stealthiest couple, I mean I must have heard you crack your head on the window at least twice _and_ you didn't hear me coming" she pointed out.

Sherlock took a step forward. She raised the pan slightly again.

"Well it was three times actually" he said sheepishly. The girl continued to glare at him.

"Well the question still stands. What are you doing here?" she asked again.

Sherlock frowned and gave her the once over with his eyes. Nothing. He groaned and shook his head, attempting to clear the fogs that were most obviously clouding his usually impeccable judgement. He took another step towards her and looked deep into her eyes, seeing more than people normally see before spinning on the spot and eyes surveying all the time. He pummelled his head with his hand.

"I'm missing something! I never miss anything!" he groaned. He flopped into a chair oblivious that both John and the woman were staring bewildered at him.

The woman let the frying pan fall from her hand. The clattering noise made John flinch as the pain in the back of his head flared once more. The woman looked at him apologetically.

"I'm sorry about that... I mean I see now you were probably just pulled along on the ride by" she gestured with her over at Sherlock.

"But really I just saw a strange man in my apartment after... well let's just say you were lucky I wasn't in the bedroom... the microscope would have been heavier" she said slightly apologetically with still a hint of anger nestled in her voice.

"I thought you said you weren't a scientist?" Sherlock called from in his hands. She turned and looked at him.

"No I just said I didn't work there... I never said I wasn't a scientist" she scoffed. "To be fair I was so shocked that you got it right that I was immediately on the defence... Now if you boys will excuse me, it's quite cold in here and..." she said looking round and staring shocked at Sherlock as he waved her away.

"Should have hit the other one with the frying pan... might have of shut him up " she muttered to herself as she walked into a room down the corridor. John watched her curvy form disappear with a dopey smile on his face.

"Well she seems... swell" he marvelled. Sherlock snorted, the noise echoed from the cup he was making with his hands.

"Nice choice of words there John" he said looking up at the blushing man. He got to his feet, his forehead furrowed in concentration.

He huffed and grabbed John by the shoulder who was staring at the door the woman had disappeared into. He shook him slightly ignoring the other man's protests.

"What am I missing John! It seems like I'm missing more as time goes..." his eyes widened and surveyed the room. They flicked up and down before settling on the object he had picked up from the sideboard.

"John... please tell me you're wearing a watch" he breathed his eyes focused on the object. John absent minded checked his wrist, staring at is as well.

"No." He whispered, suddenly very aware of a ticking that had been soft when they had clambered through the window but had become slightly higher and faster as they had been standing there. Sherlock's eyes flicked to the clock on the wall... 7.33... stopped. The clock at Baker Street had been displaying 7.11 (the correct time to the second of course) when they left, it had taken them 19 minutes to get to and into and the flat and they had been talking for no more than 2 minutes... Sherlock did a quick mental calculation.

"GET OUT!" he shouted. He bolted for the door and wrenched it open. He turned and screamed at John again to get out. Flinging the door open to the other room and ignoring the woman's shocked yells, he grabbed her wrist and pulled her from the flat, John hot on their heels.

"What the hell is going on!" the woman shrieked, but carried on running at the pace that the man dragging her was setting. Sherlock pulled the door open, shoved both John and the woman through it.

They carried on running, following Sherlock who had somehow grasped hold of the woman's wrist again. John was screaming at the people in the street to run, unaware what was going on. Many stared at the strange trio of two men dragging a half dressed woman down the street but they quickly caught onto the urgency of the situation and scattered in every direction. Sherlock in the meantime had ground to a halt causing both the woman he was dragging to slam into his back.

She span him around and slammed him hard against the wall beside them. Sherlock smirked.

"Ah now I know something about you... regular gym goer" he said mock rubbing his arms. She ground her teeth in frustration.

"NOW YOU LISTEN TO ME AND STOP WITH THIS DEDUCTING THING YOU HAVE GOING ON! WHAT THE HELL IS..." she screamed only to be cut off by a huge booming explosion from round the corner they had just turned. The woman shrieked and buried her face in Sherlock's chest, shielding herself and him from the violent explosion. Sherlock was suddenly touched from the woman's gesture, wherein she had actually thought of him when she was in obvious danger. She sobbed quietly as realisation dawned and she barely noticed warm, coated arms sneak around her back and pull her closer.


	4. Chapter 4: New Flatmates

New Flatmates

John peered at the woman who was covered in an orange blanket and perched in the back of the ambulance. She had her face down and appeared completely oblivious to everything going on around her, only occasionally whimpering as the ambulance man stretched her foot. She had sprained it in the dash from the flat. It was really a miracle to be honest... that the sprained ankle was the worst thing that had happened that night. John shuddered at the thought of what could have happened.

John looked around at Sherlock who was talking animatedly to Lestrade, hands waving in a very strange manner. He kept looking over at the woman with obvious concern on his face. John smiled gently at thinking of the scene that had greeted him when he had rounded the corner, the woman nestled in Sherlock's chest and the man himself embracing her and rubbing her back soothingly. He hadn't let go of her until Lestrade had demanded his version of things that had happened. That brought them to now.

Sherlock let out a yell audible from where John was standing. He marched over leaving Lestrade in his wake muttering apologies.

"Sorry... Sorry _Giles!_" he yelled turning on the spot and facing the startled Inspector. John flinched, he had never heard such pure venom in Sherlock's voice, and neither had he heard Sherlock call Lestrade by his first name before. Policemen rushed forward to defend their cowering Inspector.

"I should have told you" Lestrade mumbled. Sherlock raised his eyebrows.

"Too right you should!" he spat making each word more vicious than the next. He span on his heel and stalked right past John towards the ambulance. The paramedic shot him a stony stare as he stopped in front of the woman.

"You can go... Dr Watson will take over from here" he sneered gesturing behind him to John. How he knew he was there didn't matter for once, as the paramedic nodded and swiftly left. John kneeled down and gently began examining her foot. She stayed staring at the floor, eyes red and puffy from crying and wet patches on her knees where the tears were still falling. John shot a look at Sherlock that warned him to calm down but found his job already done. Sherlock was pinching the bridge of his nose, eyes closed and breathing deeply.

Sherlock blinked and opened his eyes. All he could see of the woman was her shiny, newly washed hair and the bright vibrant orange of the shock blanket, her head was bowed but she wasn't looking at John. Sherlock sat awkwardly beside her, ignoring the astonished glances the policemen and John, were sure to be shooting at him.

"Karen?" he said softly. She stayed staring at the floor but her breathing slowed slightly.

"Your names Karen Johnson... yes?" he continued. Karen sniffed and nodded her head slightly. John frowned and looked at him astonished.

"How the hell?" he mouthed at him. Sherlock glared back. He turned back to Karen.

"Lestrade, he told me about your brother. Why you carry his glasses around. And why you were in the police station." He whispered.

Karen shifted in her seat and looked up at Sherlock. Her eyes beneath the sore- looking puffy skin were a deep chocolate brown, only a shade lighter than her hair that was falling in tendrils around her face. Sherlock gulped internally.

"You go there, every Saturday even though you're a busy woman, to ensure that they catch the man who murdered your brother. The murder- you witnessed." He continued. Karen clasped her eyes shut, memories flooding back in waves, the fiery explosion that had swallowed the remaining member of her immediate family. She had found out since then that the explosion had not been a faulty gas line that everyone had previously said, but a carefully plotted murder that was designed to take out her brother's wife but had taken him and nearly her along with her.

Karen gasped and shook. Sherlock peered at her, shivering partly from the cold, partly from the horrific memories that she was obviously re-living. With everyone watching mouths gaping open, Sherlock shrugged himself out of his treasured coat and draped it over Karen's shoulders. The shivering didn't subside completely but she still managed to put her arms through the holes and pull the still warm coat tight around her.

Sherlock stayed where he was looking at the woman beside him.

"John call a cab" he said in his usual drawl not taking his eyes off her. John frowned at such a sudden request.

"Sherlock we can't leave her here! Her house just blew up and she's... she's - she's coming back with us isn't she?" he muttered already getting his phone from his pocket. Sherlock smiled slightly up at him.

"Not as dumb as you look are you John?" he said.


	5. Chapter 5: More Ways Than One

More Ways Than One

Karen had expected the residence of Sherlock and John (as they had formally introduced themselves as in the taxi) to be... well different. Instead of a clean, tidy modern flat that she would have expected of the strange couple, it was clean but old styled flat with a suitable huggable land-lady who had gathered her into her arms, much to the amusement of John who had reminded Sherlock of the similar hug she had given him at their first meeting with her. And the flat was most defiantly not tidy. There was papers, cushions, several laptops and phones strewn here, there and everywhere. There was even a skull on the sideboard above a fireplace, that didn't look as though it had been used in years. It reminded her of home.

Not the claustrophobic flat that the police had housed her in, but her old house that she and her brother had been brought up in. The house that her mother had been brought up in and her grandfather before that. There was something about the house, be it the musky smell of books that her mother and she had pored over when she was a little girl or the twisting staircase that reminded her of the one her brother had chased her up on a daily basis. With Sherlock's coat still on she walked silently across the threshold and sat lightly on the worn, maroon seat. She wiggled slightly and her face cracked into the first proper smile since the explosion.

She looked over at the men who were standing in the doorway with Mrs Hudson hovering in the background. Sensing her eyes on her Mrs Hudson disappeared down the stairs into her flat. Karen chuckled.

"Ok then which of you two sleeps on the couch?" she asked, directing it at both but focusing on Sherlock. He frowned and walked forward.

"That would be me" he said looking at her intently. She nodded and shifted slightly in the seat again. Sherlock sat in the seat next to her, his eyes still searching her.

"How did you know that?" he whispered, his face centi-metres from hers. Karen leaned in slightly closer, watching him curiously as his face tensed unintentionally at the exceedingly close proximity.

"Because you left the dressing gown under the cushion and that pillow there has a cheek indentation" she said seriously, pulling at the maroon dressing gown. She raised her eyebrows as an old, holey gown revealed itself.

Sherlock reddened slightly. Karen chuckled.

"Don't worry Sherlock. I'm a sofa-sleeper as well; I used to leave my gowns in it all the time. I think I could count the amount of times that I've slept on a proper bed in my adult life on one hand." She looked around.

"Although I suppose if you're the same as me... you're going to have to fight me for it." She chuckled raising her eyebrows suggestively. Sherlock frowned and breathed loudly through his nose. She was over compensating for the dark mood of the night through humour and flirting. Not that he was really minding, it was better than her crying, he didn't like seeing women cry. He decided to fight fire with fire.

He looked around the room, crossing his arms and breathing once more loudly through his nose.

"Or we could share it?" he pondered, looking at Karen through the corner of his eye. It was her time to flush but she did a good job of hiding the shock in her face.

"Yeah ok then" she agreed smiling. Sherlock reddened once more, this time going a deep tomato red at the thought.

"Although I have nothing to sleep in... I'll have to borrow the dressing gown" that same suggestive expression on her face. Sherlock gulped his mouth suddenly dry and his mind running through the images of Karen in a towel from earlier on in the day. He shifted uncomfortably.

John ran a hand through his hair as he watched the interaction between the two. He knew at that moment he had no chance with Karen, she was literally the perfect match for Sherlock. That equal combination of brains and wit, that Sherlock had made her more than a match for him, in more ways than one.

* * *

**Next time: It gets... fluffier? That the correct word? Short summary: Karen has to deal with a bored Sherlock and occupies him with a childish prank. Madness ensues. Then it gets kind of slashy... won't say any more. :D...**

**p.s thanks to insaneradio for pointing out a spelling mistake... A numpty I am :D**


	6. Chapter 6: Experiments

Experiments

After a less than normal introduction to the pair, Karen found that she settled into life at Baker Street with relative ease. John would go to work, leaving her alone with Sherlock.

Both were still slightly wary of the other ,spending time around each other would not have been the first thing they would have chosen to do with their weekdays. But as it allowed her to spend every day staring into space allowing her brain to go blank, it suited her perfectly. Especially after the pandemonium of her life in the last few weeks, but did nothing to ease Sherlock's racing brain.

But he kept quiet, partly because he was silently watching the woman in his company slowly attempting to work her out, getting more and more frustrated when he thought he had something worked out and then she would go and do something that disputed. In the 3 days he had been watching her, he had decided that she was; Vegetarian- only to be proved wrong as she had eaten a ham sandwich, Terrified of spiders- only to be proven wrong when she had rescued a terrified Mrs Hudson from an abnormally large one in the bath and obsessed with game shows- only to be proven wrong when she had snorted in disgust at John's choice of Deal or No Deal.

In short, the woman drove him crazy, just as she had when he'd first met her, it seemed that although he was spending more and more time watching her... the answers just weren't presenting themselves. So he continued to watch for a further few days, Karen only slightly aware of her new flatmates interest in her, the only clue when she looked at him and his eyes flicked away from her. It was on that fourth day that Sherlock eventually got bored, and when John learnt the disastrous consequences of Sherlock and Karen being bored at the same time.

Karen looked up from the programme that she had only been half-heartedly watching, when Sherlock let out a huge yawn from the sofa, he was sprawled on. He seemed to have taken over that sofa in the time she had spent there, claiming it up until 12 o'clock when she demanded it, so she could go to sleep, making Sherlock begrudgingly drag himself upstairs.

"Keeping you up?" she asked innocently. Sherlock peered at her one eye open.

"Bored" he replied in a mono-tone. Karen blinked at him.

"Well... can't you do something to preoccupy your mind, like go for a run or do something for a case?" she asked, looking at the man who had slumped groaning into a bright union jack patterned cushion.

"Can't... Johns hidden my eyeballs and head" he muttered back his voice muffled by the cushion.

Karen gathered that he didn't mean literally _his _eyeballs and head so didn't press the matter further. Her mind drifted into the past when she had gotten bored in the school holidays and had been left alone with her father's science books..._big mistake._ She chuckled lightly at the memory.

"What's so funny?" Sherlock voice called. Karen looked at him again; he seemed to have moved at a lighting speed with deathly silence to be further up the sofa and closer to her, in a sitting position and the cushion in his lap.

She thought for a moment before grinning at him.

"Have you got any flour?" she said to a bemused looking Sherlock.

* * *

"Right and now you take it out of the water and your done" Karen said to a grinning Sherlock who was sitting on the floor beside her. She looked at the four balloons, looking for any indication that they had enough water in them.

Even though Sherlock hadn't had any flour, he had somehow managed to find potassium chlorate in and similar other chemicals dusty bottles, so they had mixed the chemicals into 4 different mixtures, Sherlock nearly ruining 3 saucepans when he was left unsupervised for a few minutes. The saucepan was now laying on the floor next to Karen's feet, next to the dusty bottles that had once contained the chemicals and the bag of flour that was slowly spilling onto a small pile on the carpet from a hole that neither of them noticed.

Sherlock picked the first of the four balloons up. He looked at it rather dejectedly.

"Is this it?" he asked, shaking the balloon, causing the substance inside to echo hollowly against the rubber. Karen tutted and rolled her eyes.

"Yes that's it, you know you shouldn't judge a book by its cover... you need to drop it" she sighed. Sherlock had been like this through the whole process of the experiment. Putting his word in when she was the one who had done it before, trying to do things before she had properly explained it to him. She felt like a science teacher at a school trying to control a rowdy kid.

The _rowdy kid_, in question was raising the balloon above his head. Karen squeaked as she saw him in the corner of her eye and she caught his hand as he went to drop it. He looked down at her dejected.

"For goodness sake Sherlock! Outside... I must have said outside to you three times now!" she said still firmly in her fantasy of her as a teacher. Sherlock raised an eyebrow. He looked down at her hand, still clutching his arm then directly into her eyes.

"Guys, I'm home. I've got Chinese for din... WHAT ARE YOU DOING!" John shrieked as he saw the mess in the living room. The intimate moment was ruined and the pair jumped, Sherlock letting go of the balloon in shock.

The balloon seemed to drop in slow motion- right onto the other balloons. Karen looked in half horror, half amusement, as a shell-shocked Sherlock failed to move away in time and promptly got covered in a bright green/red/purple/blue flour- powder. As did half of the wall behind him.

Karen stifled a giggle as John glared at Sherlock who was now multi-coloured.

"WHAT THE HELL SHERLOCK!" screamed John who seemed to have avoided the worst of the flour bomb, except a small multicoloured streak on his cheek. Sherlock got to his feet and walked towards the two of them, John bright red with anger, Karen also red but mainly from trying desperately not to laugh. He remained stony faced and looking at the two of them.

"It was her idea" he muttered, his face cracking into a laugh. Karen whacked him causing a puff of flour to fly from him. Sherlock retaliated by thrusting his fingers at her face leaving streaks of flour on them.

"You-!" she laughed as he ran from the room. John sighed desperately as she chased after him.

"I am living with children" he muttered as he turned to survey the mess they'd made.

* * *

"I am going to kill you!" Karen yelled as she thundered up the stairs behind Sherlock. Sherlock just laughed, his long legs giving him an advantage as he ran away from her.

He practically dived into his room, closely followed by Karen. She slammed the door and turned on him. Her eyes glittered and she bent down, trying to sense what his next move would be.

Sherlock bent down as well to meet her eye-level. This_... idiotic_ side of him rarely came out; no doubt due to lack of interaction with his brother when he was a child. But when it did come out...

Sherlock took a small step to his right, only to immediately be shadowed by Karen. She grinned at him.

"You think it'll be that easy, _Mr Holmes?" _she whispered putting extra emphasis on his surname. Sherlock grinned back.

"Wouldn't expect that for a moment, Miss Johnson" he said mimicking her low pitched purr. They continued in this cat and mouse game for a few minutes, Karen following his every step, his long and lanky body now a disadvantage as it gave away his next move with some ease.

Then Sherlock made a mistake where he took two steps, lining himself up with his bed. Karen's eyes glinted mischievously and she smiled.

"Big mistake, Mr Holmes" she whispered. She practically pounced, throwing herself and him onto the bed, his body pinned beneath his. Sherlock laughed a huge deep booming laugh.

"Ok... Ok I give!" he yelled. Karen raised her arms in triumph, only to be flipped over by Sherlock in the second of weakness ,so that he was now on top of her, her trapped under him. He slammed her lightly onto the mattress, wrapping his legs automatically around hers in a way that Lestrade had taught him years before after a certain incident when a woman's legs had gotten free and kicked him from beneath. The memory still made him wince. There was no danger of that from Karen though; she was too beside herself laughing to even attempt something like that.

"You clever..." she giggled, her breath slightly husky from the force of him pinning her to the mattress. Sherlock continued to laugh, before looking down at Karen. In the process of jumping Sherlock she had covered herself from head to toe in the flour.

Sherlock snorted, absently minded brushed a piece of now purple hair from her eyes. Karen caught his hand as he his hand went to leave her face. Sherlock froze, suddenly very aware of the situation they were in. All hints of laughter suddenly disappeared.

Sherlock rolled off of her and stood up next to the bed. Clearing her throat Karen scuttled from the room. Sherlock stood frozen for a moment before sitting lightly on his bed, his mind still racing.

* * *

**Author Note: Ok, first I am apologizing for any out of "characterness" from Sherlock, but I thought that deep down he must have a ignored child somewhere in him... anyone with Mycroft for a brother would have... So apologies... I have to say however I did warn you it was a bit mad... and fluffy, don't forget the fluffyness... **

**Anyway I have some ideas for the next few chapters... I want to allow Sherlock to become just a _little_ bit more normal BUT keeping his Sherlockian ways. Because the thing is... I already know how this is going to end and its going to be angsty to say the least and I want some real fluffy stuff for Sherlock and Karen to work up to the point where it ends (0.O teasing I know but I'm not going to give away the end...)**

** So I'm thinking : **

**Probably: _Shooting Range (I was watching Torchwood- inspired!)_**

**_ A late night encounter of some kind... still working on it._**

**_ Somehow getting to the two singing... I'm thinking a drunken kareoke night with Lestrade, John and Sarah..._**

**_ Something else musical... I just have this feeling that Karen's a musical type person... Possibly her dragging the boys to the West End and John enjoying it a little TOO much..._**

**_ Salsa Dancing (Just imagine poor, old tall and lanky Sherlock trying to dance... That's all I'm saying, I'll let your imagination do the rest...)_**

**_ Why Sherlock is the way he is... not so fluffy but also important (trying to work out why Sherlock would be the way he is...)_**

**_ An accidental kiss between the two of them ^^ and later on an actual kiss between the two XD_**

**Maybe:**

**_ Karen going on a date with someone else ( O.O) making Sherlock jealous... possibly going badly Sherlock awkwardly comforting her... aww ^^, maybe even saving her from an utter sleazeball/ crashing the date _**

**_ Some kind of outing that every else claims is a date but Sherlock doesn't want to admit it... therefore annoying Karen._**

**_ Lestrade giving Sherlock the "you hurt her, I'll hurt you" talk. (He's like a brother to her... since she's been down the station nearly every Saturday for 12 years) Doesn't realise there not together like that... yet. OR same talk but between Mrs Hudson and Karen... or maybe both in the same chapter O.O (now that's an idea)_**

**_And then..._**

**Obviously the ending and the aftermath... :D So if anyone has any ideas or prompts for this or any of my other fics or even just prompts full stop send them to me... I'll really try to fit them in. I'm currently also working on a John/ Sherlock fic where they're watching QI... one again just imagine it.**


	7. Chapter 7: Night Encounter

Night Encounter

Sherlock shifted uncomfortably in his bed. As Karen had so aptly put it on her first day in Baker Street, he was a sofa-sleeper and he just couldn't settle. Also his mind was racing and it was becoming increasingly difficult to switch it off. Not that it was easy on a normal day, but after the events of the afternoon it was even more so. The image of Karen, her body beneath his, brown eyes locked on him, staring directly into his, lips leaning up to meet his...

Sherlock eyes flew open and he groaned, sitting straight up in bed. What did mummy always say? A hot milky drink. Doubtful that would work. Yet he found himself shrugging on his dressing gown and slippers, before heading down the stairs towards the kitchen.

Without bothering to heat the milk, or even obtain a cup from one of the many cupboards, Sherlock grasped the bottle and tilted the final dregs of it down his throat. He stood there expectantly as if he would suddenly be overcome with tiredness, before sighing and putting the empty bottle back into the fridge.

"Can't sleep?" a soft voice called from the darkness. Sherlock span, nearly spitting out the milk before relaxing as he realised who the voice belonged to.

Karen was looking up at him from the sofa. Her hair was messy from leaning on the uneven surface and the borrowed cover was falling half-way off her shoulder. Those eyes... they were fixed on him again, a slight bite to the lips- nervous. That same tendril of hair 'still slightly purple' falling into her eyes, he wanted to brush that piece of hair away again- have some kind of connection with her.

Sherlock shook his head and looked back at Karen who was staring at him, expecting an answer.

"How long have you been watching me?" Sherlock asked. Better to question , than admit why he couldn't sleep. Karen shifted further up the sofa. The cover slipped even further off her.

"Long enough to know John' going to have to go shopping early tomorrow" she chuckled.

Sherlock peered in the fridge.

"There's another bottle" he muttered, waving the bottle at her... Karen tilted her head.

"Oh bring us a glass then" she said sending a beaming smile in his direction. Sherlock was momentarily dumbstruck, he poured some milk into what he was pretty certain was a clean glass before heading to the other room. He placed the glass on a tiny space on the table that wasn't covered in papers and sat at the other end of the sofa keeping his feet tucked beneath him.

He'd never felt this awkward around a woman before, this alien feeling of having no control of the effect she had on him, that was most defiantly new.

"Where do you go when you do that?" Karen whispered. Sherlock blinked and shook his head only slightly vaguely aware of what she had just said. She repeated the question and sat back drink in hand.

"Well I suppose I go into my own head... and I think about things. About people, what I've learnt through the day, what I'm still trying to work out..." he stopped sharply realising he was talking without really thinking about what he was talking about.

Karen however was listening intently. She nodded and put her glass on her lap.

"I can understand that. Many a night I spent wide awake going through the facts of my brother's murder. "She paused and looked Sherlock directly in the eye.

"You know you should consider yourself lucky, I wish I could see things the way you do. I probably would have solved this whole case years ago." She whispered.

_ "I could teach you the basics... if you want"_

The words had tumbled out before he'd even had a chance to stop them. He looked at the woman before him gauging her reaction. Karen had sat up intently and nodded, placing the drained glass on the table. A positive response if there ever was one.

Sherlock pursed his lips and moved closer up the sofa towards her. Why he'd offered to teach something that just came naturally to him was beyond him. Needless to say he opened his mouth once more and began to speak.

"Right for this to work, you're going to have to really think. I mean REALLY think, something's are kind of obvious but you have to attach the obvious things, to the ideas, to the conclusions. That makes sense?" he asked. Karen nodded again, slightly slower this time.

Sherlock silently shrugged of his dressing gown before rolling up a sleeve of his shirt. He motioned for Karen to turn the light behind her which she did, giving the room a warm, soft glow.

"Look at my arms... what do they tell you about me?" he whispered softly. Karen looked at him perplexed. He gently took her hand with his spare hand and patted it.

"You can do it Karen... Your smart, remember that" he continued.

Karen bit her lip, her eyes roaming over his arms.

"You haven't been out of the country in a long time... or if you did it most certainly wasn't for sunbathing... or is this your natural colour?" she said slowly, unsure. Sherlock chuckled deeply.

"Right on both accounts I'm afraid. Trust your instincts Karen, that's pretty much all this is about. That and your brain, which you most certainly have, unlike some people I've met. You can do this." he repeated. Karen's eyes brightened slightly as she looked intently at him.

"You used to smoke, or still do and you are trying to quit. Nicorette patch mark." She said using her finger to outline the slightly paler piece of skin, before raising her eyebrows as she saw a further two rings further up his arm. Sherlock nodded looking at her.

Karen suddenly frowned. Lightly she placed a finger directly on his skin and ran it over a mark that was barely visible.

"You used to do drugs... "she whispered. Sherlock pupils widened, darkening his eyes at the woken memories. The re-awoken cravings. He kept his eyes locked on Karen, pushing them backwards, his mental barrier strong against the need.

"Cocaine .In my darker days" he whispered back. Karen breathed slowly and let go of his arm. Sherlock felt a pang as the contact diminished between them.

"That's all I can get" she said, quietly. The mood had shifted with the last revelation, Karen well aware as a scientist what was going on in Sherlock's mind. Sherlock rubbed his neck before rolling the sleeve down.

"Not bad for a beginner." He answered.

"But the real trick is to read the whole person not just a tiny part. You ready to try that? I'll ask you questions, you have to answer them about me and at the same time I'll try and answer the same question about you. First question, how old am I?"

Karen thought for a moment.

"32?" she whispered slowly. Sherlock raised his eyebrows slightly.

"Quick learner... And how did you figure that out?" he asked. Karen beamed over her success.

"Your dressing gown. It's old but not old enough to have more than one owner, it's also slightly too short for you which means you bought it when you were still growing... so I figured around 33-34. I deducted once because you look younger" She said slowly still very unsure of herself, but still keeping her teasing wit. Sherlock smiled warmly.

"Very good... extremely good. But to be honest that is an easy question. Now I'm going to say... 29 for you?" he declared, smiling once more as she nodded.

"Next question. What hobbies do I have?" he asked. Karen tilted her head and subconsciously leaned forward slightly. Sherlock leaned forward in a perfect imitation of her.

"You like... running? I mean you're obviously very fit and experienced from running from the way you dragged me around earlier but as a hobby not so sure... I think I'm going to have to say conducting experiments?... I saw the state of the microwave... Is that a hobby?" she asked said leaning back again. Sherlock nodded slightly.

"Fair enough" he muttered. He looked at her intently for a moment.

"I'm going to say... swimming and you also enjoy reading and writing, in fact when you were younger you wanted to be an author" Karen simply shook her head in disbelief.

"What am I scared of?" he said carefully. Karen thought for a moment, before shaking her head.

"For me it's not knowing the answer to something, but you, your much deeper than that. "he said softly. ""Being betrayed most specifically by people you trust, so you're afraid of being hurt... also fire, understandable"

Karen smiled sadly. Sherlock felt slightly guilty as he saw the expression on her face.

"Do I play any instruments?" he said a small smile on his face. Karen looked up and half turned around the room but found someone turning her face gently back towards him.

"We'll focus on objects later, keep your eyes on me for now." He said gently letting go of her face. Karen blushed and peered at his hands. She looked back up at him and then at her hands.

"The violin" she said confidently. Sherlock raised his eyebrows. She put her hands in front of her and pulled his towards her. Sherlock's heart skipped slightly. They had exactly the same grooves on and slight cuts.

"That was slightly obvious Sherlock" she teased. Sherlock reached behind him and pulled his violin from the floor. Karen's face broke into a smile as he handed it to her. She put her chin against the instrument and closed her eyes to hear the tuning properly in her own world ,unaware that Sherlock was sitting watching her.

* * *

John awoke to the sound of a violin being plucked as it was being tuned. This was familiar sound in this house and it never ended well. He looked at his clock which seemed to be glowing dimmer, itself tired. _3:42_

John groaned and sat back in his pillow waiting the familiar screeching of Sherlock's violin. The final pluck came and he heard shifting from downstairs. John braced himself.

The screeching never came. Instead a beautiful, melodic version of some familiar song came up through the floorboards. John leaned back and listened allowing the music to send him back to sleep, praying that Sherlock didn't take the violin off Karen.

John laughed silently at the state of his room-mate_s_ when he walked down the stairs the following morning; Karen was curled up in a ball, her legs tucked up to her chest and Sherlock's dressing gown over her legs. She appeared to be hugging the top of the dressing gown as a young child would hug a teddy bear in their sleep, her arms wrapped around it, holding it tightly.

Sherlock was sprawled still fully clothed, feet on the floor, head dangling over the side of the sofa, in a total contrast to Karen's compact position; he also appeared to have stolen pretty much all the of the covers which would explain Karen's use of the dressing gown . He had one arm encircling Karen and she appeared to be using his chest as a pillow. The violin from the night before had been discarded and was propped against the sofa near Karen's feet.

It was the first time he had seen Sherlock, sleeping soundly since he had moved in with him. John smiled at the scene before scuttling into the kitchen as Sherlock eyes began to open, clearly sensing his gaze upon him.

John attempted to look busy as he fixed himself and his stirring flatmate, a cup of tea. He perched at the kitchen table as a bleary eyed Sherlock trundled from the sitting room, rubbing a hand over his head and yawning.

"That-"he said amidst a huge yawn. "Was the best sleep I've had in years".

John smirked.

"Wonder why" he muttered peering at Karen who had rolled into the warm spot that Sherlock had just left. Sherlock just glared at him.

* * *

In the following weeks, the night time lessons became a routine for John's flatmates. Either Sherlock would stay up with Karen waiting for John to go to bed before beginning the lessons for that night/morning, or they would arrange a time for Sherlock to sneak down.

Gradually Karen got the hang of it and they would have their own private jokes as John stumbled in after a date with Sarah clothes ever so slightly rumpled, not visible to the average person, wondering why both Sherlock and Karen were laughing. He was oblivious to Karen's new deducting skills and what they were both correctly deducting.

He was not oblivious however to the change in Sherlock. Far from becoming a helpful flatmate and actually tidying up occasionally around the flat, he did _occasionally _go down the shops and pick up more than enough bottles of milk to replace what they drank at night, as that had also became part of their tradition. Eventually Sherlock even got his hot drink as Karen got fed up of cold milk and replaced the kettle Sherlock had blown up the night previously.

Eventually their meetings turned into simply that, sure for the first few minutes they would try and work out a few things about the other, Sherlock usually coming out on top and leaving Karen in a mock huff for a few moments but after that they would become much more casual and they would simply talk about the things that were bothering them, most of it coming from Karen's side and Sherlock sitting listening, for once interested in the personal life of another human for more reasons than just for the hell of it.

During the day, with John at work and Karen given leave from her job following the explosion, they poured over case notes, Sherlock's and Karen's alike. Karen introduced him to the world she inhabited, showing him the reports she had formulated and published. From anyone else Sherlock would have found it mind-numbingly boring and would have left them too it, but with Karen she somehow managed to make it seem interesting.

She told him of how she had published reports on how genius's worked, flushing slightly as she realised that she was sitting opposite a genius and most defiantly didn't work the way she had written about. Sherlock had brushed it off but was secretly pleased that he had found someone who actually understood him.

**

* * *

**

**Author Note : hmmmm... I don't think I like this one... no I don't :/. But its only a filler... the next chapter will be better promise! Next time: Karen is horrified to learn something about Sherlock, so she deems to fix it (not like that's he's killed someone, its actually quite fluffy next time, I accidentally made it sound more angsty than it is... Yeah fluffiness.. and music! Next times like a musical number and I'll post links of the songs that are in the story)**

****** EDIT: What the heck happened to my spacing... sorted now though :)**


	8. Chapter 8: The Band Was Jumping

The Band Was Jumping

Sherlock screwed his face up unattractively as he heard music blaring from the flat. It was a strange song, full of heavy drum beats and guitar riffs. John was most defiantly not listening to that...

"Karen" he muttered. He thundered up the stairs, jumping two at a time. There inside the kitchen was Karen, somehow explicably singing along to it. She was jiggling around, singing on the top of her lungs, unaware of Sherlock standing behind her.

"_So you think you can stone me and spit in my eye ,So you think you can love me and leave me to die ,Oh, baby, can't do this to me, baby , Just gotta get out, just gotta get right outta here_" she sang at the top of her lungs. Sherlock stood bemused as his eyes followed her around the kitchen.

It wasn't that she had a totally offensive singing voice, she defiantly kept within the tone and tune of the_ noise_ that was currently playing. But the miraculous thing somehow incredibly she was _dancing_ to the noise. And not just jiggling as he had thought before, but it seemed that she was actually dancing, fancy footwork and all.

"What on earth?" he pondered out loud causing Karen to turn and look at him.

"Sherlock" she beamed, a huge smile lighting up her face. She casually leant over and thankfully turned the music down slightly. Sherlock frowned at her.

"_What on earth... _was that?" he asked looking utterly confused. Karen looked at the radio and back to Sherlock.

"It was Queen" she said simply, her smile melting into confusion as Sherlock continued to look at her blankly. She took a step closer, her eyes surveying his.

"Sherlock... you do know who Queen are, don't you?" she whispered. Sherlock's brain whirred into action, trying to recall something of such importance, which would explain her aghast expression at him being oblivious to its meaning. Other than the Queen herself which would _not_ make sense, nothing presented itself so she had to make do with a shrug.

Karen gasped dramatically, hand flying to her mouth in horror.

"Oh my! And all the things you know, not to know..." she whispered. She paused pondering her options for a moment.

Suddenly as if a light bulb had been lit, her eyes flashed with sudden inspiration. Without warning she pulled an arguing Sherlock from the flat.

"Karen... care to remind me again why you've dragged me here?" Sherlock said coolly as she pulled him into an old music shop. Sherlock casually surveyed the ancient piano's gathering dust in the corner, guitars rigged to unplugged amplifiers that hadn't been touched in years. Karen pulled him past the artefacts that he found interesting into a pokey back part of the shop, surrounded by machines converted to have two pairs of private headphones in them to give the listener some privacy.

Karen walked away leaving Sherlock alone with the machine, one of which he was sure had been the centre-piece of Mycroft's bedroom, also fitted with headphones. Sherlock examined the machine gently running his finger over the curved shell unattached from the machine but remaining balanced on it ...for ascetic reasons he assumed.

Karen returned with a huge grin on her face, clutching what appeared to be a stack of ancient files. She held the first up to him. Sherlock looked at it expressionless. It had the black and white image of a young man, legs spread at the knees provocatively, microphone in hand, clad in prison gear and standing in from of bars.

Sherlock looked back at Karen and shrugged. Karen laughed slightly, placing the rest of the _files _on a chair beside the ancient machine and sliding a large, black disc from the file with the man on the front. She slid the disc into the machine gently balancing on the point of the needle on the disc. She motioned for Sherlock to place one set of the headphones over his ears doing so with the second pair.

"There really is only one way to listen to music" she whispered to herself eyes glittering. Sherlock looked at her, flushed with excitement, eyes twinkling and felt that familiar squirm that he felt whenever he figured out a case or more recently when Karen was doing something, not brilliant but just being her usual self. Which to be honest he was finding her more and more brilliant each day.

He gently placed the padded phones over his ears, listening to the crackling sound of the disc spinning on the turn table. Karen pressed a button and a drum beat came through the headphones making Sherlock jump. He pressed the phones into his ears blocking out the noise from the outside world as a smooth voiced man began to sing.

_"The warden threw a party in the county jail__, The prison band was there and they began to wail  
The band was jumpin' and the joint began to swing , You should've heard those knocked out jailbirds sing..."_

Karen cheered internally as Sherlock bemused face lifted slightly into a smile, his eye light up and she could have sworn that she could see him slightly tapping his foot along to the beat.

Sherlock lifted the headphones, a huge smile on his face. The last remaining beats of the final _"record" _as he had been corrected, faded away into nothingness, but the feeling remained. The hyped up energy, the pounding heart, the strange urge (that he had never felt before) to dance. The urge to sweep Karen off her feet and dance around the shop regardless of the looks that they would receive from the other people.

Karen removed her headphones as well and looked at him expectantly. Sherlock's faced dropped back into his usual emotionless expression.

"My turn" he muttered, a slight incline to his lips. He turned, swishing his coat dramatically as he went. Karen stared dumbstruck as he turned and beckoned her forward with a finger, the face still emotionless but with a mischievous glisten behind his eyes. Without further ado Karen bustled after him her eyes wide in expectation.

In a similarly dramatic fashion to which he had spun around before, Sherlock pulled a massive dust sheet from a Grand Piano in the corner. Karen had a sneaky suspicion that he had spotted that on the way in.

Sitting down and smoothing his coat on the seat beside him, he motioned for Karen to join him at the stool. She did so without hesitation, her breath hitched in an excitement that she simply could not comprehend.

Sherlock found himself breathing heavily, also. Since that first night when they had discovered their similarities when it came to music_, _the night when she had taken his hands in his, her warmth seeping into his, warming him to the very bone, they hadn't been in such close proximity since. But now they were sitting side by side, arms brushing the others, legs touching in the confined space. Sherlock could feel the heat radiating from her as she too became affected by their current situation.

Knowing her eyes were on him Sherlock slowly lifted the lid. His hands positioned themselves into their seldom used but never forgotten positions.

Karen gulped as she surveyed the long, slender but manly fingers. She coughed slightly clearing her throat, causing her to blush when she saw him cast a sideways glance at her. And then he began to play chords at first, harshly, then softly, before descending into a dramatic tempo with soft underlying chords.

Karen watched transfixed as his fingers danced along the keys, his brow furrowed in concentration but his eyes passionate and dark. Both hands worked in unison to create the dramatic tension which built and built. The tempo became upbeat before slowing down back to the first tune that he had played although this time softer. Sherlock required no sheet music, everything he was playing he remembered, one of the very few things of his early life that he deemed fit to remain in his memory.

He played the final note, slowly removing his finger from the key. He looked at Karen who was as flushed as he was. She cleared her throat once more and sat up slightly higher in the chair.

Her fingers began the chords of a song, one that even Sherlock wouldn't have trouble recognising. It had always been one of his favourites but had never quite mastered how to play it on the piano. He watched Karen now in wonderment as she had watched him moments ago, the same look of concentration plastered on her face, the same look of admiration on his.

Sherlock leant backwards picking up another instrument he had spotted on the way in. Karen looked up at him through her lashes smiling when she realized what he was planning to do. Placing the instrument under his neck he waited for the precise part to come in before playing the melody along to what Karen was playing. Even though he hadn't learnt it on piano, he certainly knew how to play it on the violin. He closed his eyes listening to the music that they were creating together, lost in the moment. He absentmindedly moved closer to Karen, not even hearing her slight pause when she felt his shoulder, close next to her. He most defiantly did not see her smile. Sherlock breathed out in the way that he had always been taught himself, fingers and bow moving expertly across the instrument.

Slowly Sherlock faded his part out leaving Karen playing on her own; she was slightly closer to him than before her body slightly pressing into his. Sherlock bit his lip as she finished the song, her eyes flickering up to look at his. Chocolate brown staring into ice-blue. They were only distantly aware of the people who had gathered to hear them play clapping, some asking for another song, some whispering and commenting on the couple.

"Thought you couldn't play the violin properly... John's always complaining about you" Karen whispered. Sherlock chuckled placing the violin on the floor.

"Well he's never heard me play properly, I only play properly when I'm around people I really care about." he said. Back to staring, silence as Karen processed what Sherlock had just said. His eyes bored into hers.

Karen was the one to break the stare. She looked down at her feet, clearing her throat. The way the man next to her had been staring... staring so passionately into her eyes. They had contained something that she hadn't seen in someone else's eyes for a long time. And she knew that hers had contained it as well. She shook her head and looked up at Sherlock. He was looking down at her in confusion, partly his own feelings confusing him and partly her reaction at his words.

"I... I have to go" she muttered reaching for Sherlock coat in her hast. Sherlock didn't even try to stop her; his fantastic brain was still ticking over their conversation. She shrugged his coat on and hurried out the door before running off down the street. Sherlock just leant on the table, his brain muttering at him as he tried to deduct/ understand what had just happened.

It was during their lesson that evening that he began to understand. It was the night of the incident at the music shop. They hadn't spoken properly for the rest of the afternoon, only interacting when she had asked him to pass the paper and when John, aware of the obvious awkwardness between the two had asked them what had happened, causing them to both snap at him simultaneously. Sherlock had pondered even going tonight, but he had to make things right. Even if he couldn't comprehend why she had run that afternoon, he still had to make amends.

He had seen her shape on the sofa lying down, as he passed to boil up the kettle and make the usual hot chocolates. His brain was still wondering how to begin the conversation after the evening of awkwardness when he heard a whimper coming from her direction.

Sherlock was immediately on the alarm; he turned and looked properly inside the room. Karen was thrashing around, in danger of falling off the sofa getting herself, more and more entangled in the bright, pink flowery cover that Mrs Hudson had put on the cover that week. Sherlock immediately realised what was happening. John had suffered from nightmares in the first few weeks of him living in Baker Street, Sherlock had often heard him screaming in the night. He rushed to her side and placed a hand on her contorted face.

"Karen... wake up" he said giving her a gentle shake. She let out another small whimper before her eyes flew open.

"Sherlock?" she said in a small voice. Sherlock cupped her face with his hand and stroked her cheek.

"Yeah I'm here" he whispered. Karen took a deep breath, closing her eyes, clearly relieved. All the events of the day were forgotten as she embraced Sherlock, her cheek touching his and her arms tight around his back. Sherlock didn't think twice before returning the hug.

"I had a dream about you" Karen muttered into his shoulder, where she was wiping tear stained eyes on his shirt. Sherlock bit his lip, wondering how to answer that statement.

"I dreamt that you died, on the night the flat blew up. You got me and John out but you were too late to save yourself. Like-" she said faltering as she remembered her brother's grizzly death. Sherlock knew all too well, how he and his brain would work in a situation like that. Her dream was far too accurate to be comfortable. And they both knew it.

Sherlock let his hands drop to her sides. She did similarly and her eyes followed him as he took a seat next to her, much closer than usual. She didn't even flinch as he placed an arm around her. She placed her head against his shoulder as though it was the most natural thing in the world, letting out another sigh of relief.

"I couldn't bear to lose you, Sherlock" she whispered before she realised what she was saying. Sherlock remained silent, pretending not to have heard but thinking the same thing about her. Neither said anything more. Nothing more was needed.


	9. Chapter 9: Shoot That Poison Arrow

Shoot That Poison Arrow

"No I still don't get it... you know how to shoot an bow but not a gun?" John said. Karen and Sherlock groaned simultaneously.

"Look John... I've explained this three times." Karen groaned, pinching her nose. "I went to a renaissance faire as a young girl, tried archery, enjoyed it and took it up as a hobby. And I've never tried to shoot a gun, so yes I can shoot a bow but not a gun... Ok?" she said turning on John.

John was silent for a moment, looking past Karen and Sherlock's head to watch London pass them. Karen looked at Sherlock from the corner of her eye and shook her head exasperated.

"No still not with you... a bow and arrow? You keep a bow and arrow in your house instead of a gun?" John asked again. Karen groaned again, wanting to hit Sherlock for discovering her weapon behind the sofa and promptly telling John

"Look this is the point of today isn't it! For me to learn how to shoot and put your mind to rest..." she snapped, turning away from him. The cabbie looked at the group in the back of his cab, John staring at Sherlock, Karen huffing and staring out the window and Sherlock laughing hysterically in between them.

* * *

Sherlock looked over at Karen who was looking equally terrified/ excited as the man handed her the handgun. Her hand dropped slightly as the full weight, went into her hand.

"Now do you have a licensed shooter with you, ma'am?" the man, who was really nothing more than a boy, said. He looked suspicious as Karen blanched and turned to look for John. He appeared to have disappeared.

"Urm... I did have" she joked, trying to make light of the situation. The teenager frowned.

"Well miss, I can't let you out with a gun without a licensed shooter with you... oh thank you sir!" he said as Sherlock thrust his licence under the boy's nose. Karen looked at him relieved.

"Thank you sir, have a nice day" he called at the two, his American accent more prominent with the familiar saying.

"Thank you." Karen chuckled. Sherlock looked down at her.

"This is typical John at a shooting range. He dragged me to one; after I innocently shot the wall and he disappeared on me... it soon became evident that I needed to get my own license. I'll talk to him later." He remarked. Karen laughed again at the mental image of Sherlock walking around the range, guns everywhere but unable to shoot them.

"It's ok... There's a reason I said to come to this particular one... You'll find out later" she said, as he looked down at her interested.

They arrived at their booth. As she didn't have a licence, Sherlock would have to be with her at all times. Damn rules, he thought sarcastically.

Silently he laid Karen's borrowed gun on the table, motioning for her to sit down. He drew out his own pistol, loading it with ease. It had annoyed John no end that; not only could Sherlock legally own a gun but like most things was much better at shooting than him.

Karen watched in wonder, red headphones over ears, clashing horribly with the bright green goggles she had on, as Sherlock lined up his shot. He had removed his coat and she could see every line of his body, every muscle as it tensed and relaxed in preparation.

Her eyes roamed over his body, she watched his back rise and fall as he breathed in and out. He was more muscle than she'd first thought his arms firm and shown off to fall advantage with his rolled up sleeves and tensed posture. She found her eyes roving over the s shaped curve of his lower back and further down. Karen raised an eyebrow and made a mental note to hide Sherlock's coat when they got home. And to get him to wear those jeans more often. She continued staring oblivious to his actions.

His flinger only inclined ever so slightly. The gun roared as the first bullet flew from it, Karen distracted squeaked and clasped the headphones over her ears. Sherlock looked at his embarrassed companion and wondered what could have caused her to flush so brilliantly red. He shook his head and turned back to the target contemplating the strange ways of women. He shot again, this time Karen managed not to squeak quite so loudly. This continued, Karen watching Sherlock as aimed and shot a whole round of bullets into the waiting target.

He removed his headphones and pressed a button. The target moved forward and he smirked as he counted up his points.

"256/300 in 6 bullets" Karen whispered impressed. Sherlock turned, to find her on tiptoes peering over her shoulder.

"Your go... Miss Johnson" he whispered, a smile on his lips. Karen gulped and stepped forward. She reached for her borrowed gun but found Sherlock's hand stopping hers.

"Try with mine... lighter, easier to shoot" he said handing her his pistol. She grasped it with both hands.

"One hand" he muttered, gently pulling away her left hand. She let her left hand, fall and raised the gun. She shot it and winced as the bullet embedded itself into the wall behind the target. Sherlock laughed.

"Right, now I'll show you how to do it... properly." He said moving behind her. Karen flushed as she felt, his leg go between hers and gently nudge them apart. He turned her so her left side was facing the target. Karen wiggled and moved her weight onto her back leg. Her archery stance she remembered fondly.

"Turn, so you're left legs in front... that's it" he whispered. Karen closed her eyes. She could feel Sherlock's body behind hers, his warm breath tickling her neck as he spoke. She knew if she turned her lips would be level with his, she would only have to lean forwar-

"Raise... the gun Karen." His voice came, jolting her from her fantasy. She cleared her throat and raised it quickly. His hand pushed the gun back down.

"Slowly..." he drawled, his voice even closer to her ear. He moved closer, his spare arm encircling her waist, fingers spread on her stomach. Together they _slowly_ raised the gun until it was lined up with the target.

"Breathe in..." he whispered in her ear. Karen took a deep breath, letting it out in ragged gasps.

"And another... and this time hold it" he continued. Karen breathed in again.

"And squeeze gently... now"

Karen's fingers directed by Sherlock's squeezed the trigger. The gun boomed and Karen leapt backwards, only to be stopped by Sherlock holding her tighter.

"Wow" she whispered huskily. Sherlock smiled and took the gun from her. He turned to reload, before spinning to meet Karen again. He stepped back into their position, smiling as Karen pulled his arm around her stomach.

"Again" he called.

* * *

John stared as he saw Karen; both eyes wide open, shooting masterfully at the target alongside Sherlock.

Karen didn't flinch as the bullet flew from the gun and the only interaction between the two was when their eyes met over the table with the bullets on.

"She's a natural John... better than me and you." Sherlock called, turning around to face him. He peered in the chamber before stowing it deep into his inside pocket.

"And I'll tell you something else boys... I can beat you at something else." Karen said firing her last shot from the borrowed gun and placing it as instructed in the pocket on the side of the booth.

She walked towards John, smiling at him over her shoulder. The teenager from earlier glanced up as she walked towards him.

"I need one 170 cm preferably made of lemon wood..." she looked over her shoulder at the two men standing behind her.

"I would think a 187 for the taller gentlemen and a 172 for him" she said pointing at John. "And preferably a harder wood for the 172... He's quite clumsy with his weapons"

The teenager snorted. "Yes I know ma'am... I saw him with his gun". They both laughed.

"Anyway... they'll be delivered outside when you get there, enjoy yourself ma'am" he said to her. Karen thanked him and turned to the men.

"Outside then boys" she said smiling.

* * *

Sherlock looked at John as Karen tutted and refastened the wrist straps on John's arm.

"I said over then under... not over then under! And yes it does matter!" she snapped when she saw John open his mouth to protest. Sherlock fixed his silently not wanting to face the wrath of Karen.

There was a thump as a man approached them, dropping three long cases onto the floor. Sherlock's eyes narrowed as he saw the typically tall, dark and handsome man's eyes roam over Karen.

"You must be Karen" he said, with a European accent.. Dark haired, eyes same, tanned skin... Italian possibly , Sherlock concluded.

Karen nodded, non-perpluxed.

"Yeah... I'm Karen." Karen answered, shaking his hand. _Obviously... did he see another woman there?_ Sherlock thought.

"I am Antonio" he said in his thick accented voice. **_Defiantly _**_Italian._

Karen made a small 'o' sound.

"Nice to meet you... this is Sherlock and John" she said, waving her arm at the person in turn.

"Pleasure" Antonio sneered never taking his eyes off Karen. Sherlock didn't like him. Neither did Karen it seemed.

"So Antonio... if it's alright with you, I'll partner with Sherlock and you go with John." She said grasping the shortest and the longest of the three cases. She turned to Sherlock and smiled. Antonio was not giving up that easily.

"Well... Karen I must insist as the instructor that the most experienced of you goes with your _Sherlock_, and I will go with the least experienced." He proclaimed, looking Karen up and down again.

"Yes... that's exactly what I'm doing. As far as I'm aware neither have done any archery before and I was the 16- 25 British champion in 1998. I think I qualify as the most experienced out of us three... ergo I will go with Sherlock." She corrected, turning and pulling Sherlock to the furthest target.

"Poor John" she said as soon as they were out of earshot. Sherlock looked back to find that Antonio was still staring at Karen's retreating figure and John was standing awkwardly behind him.

"We'll get him over here in a minute... we don't need a sodding instructor." She grumbled, dumping the quiver full of arrows on the ground. She unzipped the case she was holding and pulled out a yellow tinted longbow, she gasped.

"Oh! This is just like the one I won with" she whispered balancing the bow on her fingers. Sherlock watched her in confusion as he unzipped the longer case. It was far longer than her one, obviously more suited to a taller man, such as him.

This one however was made of a deep brown- almost black wood that glinted in the sunlight. He turned it over in his hands, looking at the small streaks of lighter wood in it.

"So you really were British champion? You didn't just say that to get rid of _Antonio_" he asked still looking at his bow. Karen tore her eyes from the bow and hummed at him. He repeated the question and she laughed at his second comment.

"Yes. I was British champion at 17. I was on my way to the top and then..." her voice faltered.

"Well you know what happened next" she said sadly, shaking her head. She bent down and picked an arrow with a light coloured fletching on it. She strung it and looked at Sherlock.

"Haven't shot since then" she muttered pursing her lips. She raised the bow to eyelevel and drew herself to her full height, her back straight. Breathing in, she released the arrow. The bow twanged and the arrow shot almost as quickly as the bullets from the gun earlier. It struck right into the middle of the target. Antonio, John and Sherlock, all stared at her shocked. She beamed and lowered the bow.

"Still got it" she whispered. She turned to Sherlock.

"Your go... _Mr Holmes" _she said, echoing his words from the shooting range. Sherlock raised his eyebrows at her and stepped forward taking her place on the green.

"Stand the same way you would when you fire a gun" she said from beside him. Sherlock turned to his left, his left foot in front, most of his weight on his back foot.

"Right now, point the bow down... and here's the arrow... I'll load it for you" she continued, leaning over to do just that. She patted his arm and Sherlock raised it up slightly.

"Three fingers... like this" she said. With these words, she gently took his hand and took his index finger and placed it above the arrow, his middle and ring finger stayed beneath. She folded his thumb and little finger down. She stood back and looked at him. In the background she could see Antonio going through the same things with John. She dragged her eyes back to Sherlock who was standing expectantly.

"Yes that's right... now in one motion raise the bow and draw it backwards towards your chin" She said moving towards him. Sherlock raised the bow and drew it the string backwards with his fingers. She gently patted his elbow, raising it to be at a right angle.

Sherlock squirmed as she placed a hand on his stomach telling him to stand up taller. Normally he would have come back with some witty reply but he was concentrating so hard. Tiny beads of sweat were appearing on his brow and his eyes were focused on the middle of the target. Karen took a step back and surveyed him. She nodded and Sherlock released the bow. He fell forward slightly from the motion of the arrow, none of Karen's practiced finesse. The arrow flew forward and embedded itself into the black part of the target.

Sherlock was momentarily disappointed before he saw John's first attempt sail into the ground before reaching the target. Karen saw this as well, and snorted from behind him. She took a step forward, offering him another arrow.

"Again" she whispered, eyes glinting.

**

* * *

****SORRY ITS FLUFF AGAIN! Kind off... I promise next chapter the angst will restart so please get yourselves ready for a bumpy ride...**


	10. Chapter 10: Brotherly Love

Brotherly Love

"Giles" Sherlock called as he walked into the detective's office, shaking the rain water from his hair. The man looked up and a familiar woman turned around to face him.

"And Karen too, what a pleasure" he continued, returning her beaming smile. She tapped him lightly on the arm.

"It's like you didn't see me this morning" she tutted. She peered at her watch and cursed as she saw the time.

"Giles! You could have told me the time! I need to go see my doctor about something." Both men in the room looked at her concerned.

"It's nothing to worry about boys, just the results of a test" she said as the opened their mouths to argue. Before they could say any more she fled from the room without another word.

"Women" Lestrade muttered. Sherlock nodded raising his eyebrows.

"Oh for fu-" Karen yelled as another cab squealed past her, this one hitting the puddle before her just at the right speed and angle to drench her from head to toe. She peeled at her now soaking wet t-shirt with one hand, using the other to stick her middle finger out at the cabbie that had now stopped and was apparently having rest mere metres away from the girl he had just drenched.

"Bastard" she muttered, raising both hands over her hair in a vain attempt to stop the rain water from hitting her hair. A sleek black car stopped before her and the door popped open. Karen ignored it and continued to mutter under her breath about the cabbie, which was now openly laughing and ogling her now see through shirt.

"Get in the car, Doctor Johnson" a voice called from within. Karen paled, noticing the car for the first time. Looking inside she noted a pair of Prada black brogues and an umbrella beside the feet contained in them.

"And what if I don't get in the car" she called in, reaching for her bag in the hope of it containing anything that could be used as a weapon. To her dismay her bag was no longer there and upon further inspection it seemed that a man that can only be described as a 'goon' was holding it behind her. How he got it from her arm was beyond her.

"Let's not make this difficult Doctor Johnson, I simply want to talk" the voice called again. Karen looked behind her, there was no-one around and the goon would have stopped her the second she tried to run. With her stomach doing somersaults she stepped into the car, the goon closing the door and heading for the driver's seat.

"I wonder why she's going to a different doctor, she could have just spoken to John" Sherlock muttered under his breath for what seemed like the hundredth time. He continued to thumb through the case file that Lestrade had thrust under his nose absentmindedly, not really paying any attention to what was written in it.

"I don't know Sherlock, maybe it's something that she didn't want John to know" Lestrade replied.

"You mean something she didn't want John to tell me" Sherlock corrected sarcastically. Lestrade sighed.

"Look people are allowed to have their secrets Sherlock and believe it or not but not everyone goes out of their way to work other people's secrets out" Lestrade uttered. Sherlock threw his hands up in the air.

"But Giles! What's the point of that! When you know someone has a secret and it may concern you, wouldn't you go all out to find out what that secret is" he asked exasperated.

"And how would a secret that Karen has, involve you?" Lestrade continued his interest well and truly piqued.

"I don't know!" Sherlock yelled. "I mean she was sick the other day, she might be pregnant.."

There was a moment's uneasy silence as the two of them stared at each other both thinking about what the consulting detective had just said.

"Sherlock... have you gotten Karen pregnant!" Lestrade boomed, fist's raised walking towards Sherlock. Sherlock rolled his eyes, tutting.

"Not me you idiot!" he hissed. Lestrade lowered his fists.

"She may have a boyfriend, maybe he got her-_oh I don't know_" he said, sitting back down in a huff.

"Yes but how does that- oh... oh I see" Lestrade smirked. Sherlock regarded him from the corner of his eye.

"See what?" he huffed, trying to look nonchalant. Lestrade smiled, leaning back on his elbows.

"You like her- you like Karen. This all makes sense now, your recent good moods, the way she talks about you... the way you talk about her-" Giles! I do not like Karen" Sherlock interrupted him.

"I have no romantic interest in anyone" Sherlock hissed, his face furious for no apparent reason...

"Sociopath- remember?" Sherlock finished sarcastically. Lestrade groaned.

"Sherlock, you are aware I've read you case file- you were never even diagnosed as sociopathic. It seems you just wanted to shut yourself away from the world of emotions after-"

"GILES DONT!" Sherlock practically screamed. Lestrade fell silent. Sherlock glared at him his face furious.

"I know what I am. Nothing to do with... that. I never have and never will be able to love!" Sherlock yelled. With that he turned on his heel and walked from the room, hands in pockets, head down, wanting to shut away the memories Lestrade had unlocked.

"I thought you may appreciate a lift, Doctor Johnson" the man said coolly. Karen looked at him.

"Thank you" she said sniffily. The car was extremely warm and luxurious and she was very aware of her sodden clothes rubbing on the expensive leather seats.

"Although I could have simply saved you the journey, your blood tests came back negative. You're not iron deficient" he said staring out the window. Karen turned to him aghast.

"How... did you know about that?" she whispered. The man turned, only a ghost of a smile on his lips.

"It's my job to know, Doctor Johnson" he replied. Karen shook her head as a file was passed to her showing her test results. She flipped it shut.

"Why do you call me that?" she asked suddenly. The man turned once more.

"What _Doctor?_ Well you are a doctor are you not?" he stated. Karen frowned.

"But... I never registered. I dropped out of medical school in my last year, I don't even know if I passed the final exam." She stammered. Another folder was passed to her.

"Apparently you did, _Doctor_ Johnson. With flying colours." he smiled as her mouth dropped open at the contents of it. She turned and stared at him, unnerved by this man's knowledge about her. The last two things he'd passed to her she hadn't even known about herself.

"What is your connection to Sherlock Holmes?" the man asked, surveying her confused face. Karen's face turned into a frown and she felt her blood run cold, as she realised that he could be taking her anywhere.

"I would think sir, that that is none of your business" she whispered her face serious. The man chuckled.

"That is exactly what Watson said on our first meeting" he said smoothly.

"You've got to Watson?" she said. She moved slightly closer finger raised and pointing.

"Yes, we spoke to him the day he moved in with Sherlock. It took us a little bit longer to get to you, you're always so careful... well almost always careful." at these words he held up a surveillance photo taken only the other day. It pictured the occupants of 221b sitting in the Thai Restaurant on the corner of Baker Street. Karen pinching her nose laughing as Sherlock tried to explain to an exasperated John who was standing cross armed beside him. Another flick of a hand. A security camera photograph of her and Sherlock, walking down the road chatting animatedly. Her looking exasperated, tapping her foot in the line at the supermarket. Her , John and Sherlock standing on Millennium Bridge, leaning over the side looking at the river, Sherlock nudging her and peering around slightly at a man staring at them in the background. Her and Sherlock chasing after the man down a side alley after the man who had just tried to shoot them and had winded John. Her asleep head on Sherlock's shoulder, feet on John's legs in the back of a cab, the same day as the previous two photos.

The man raised an eyebrow, removing the one of her in the supermarket queue. He fanned them out to a gaping Karen.

"You see the common factor here Doctor Johnson? Therefore I change my question, what is your _relationship _with Sherlock Holmes?" he said emphasizing the word change. Karen glared at him.

"I still fail to see how this is any of your business?" she left the sentence hanging. The man paused for a moment.

"I am interested in him..." He finished slowly for her. And then it suddenly seemed to make sense to Karen as she took in the intelligent eyes and smooth clipped accent.

"Oh" she breathed, relief washing over her face. She ran a hand over her hair smoothing the stray strands back.

"You're Mycroft!" she said clearly relieved. Mycroft frowned and raised an eyebrow.

"I was not aware that Sherlock spoke about me" he whispered. Karen snorted.

"He has _mentioned _you. John was the one who told me about you, I'm now beginning to think that Sherlock's portrayal of you is a lot more accurate." She muttered, turning away from the elder Holmes.

Mycroft let out a slight woosh of surprise.

"And you realised who I was- _how_?" he whispered, the low sound levels successfully hiding the shock and stammer that was apparent in his voice. Karen smiled at him cheekily.

"It was just the way you said interested... you have the exact same speech pattern as Sherlock, therefore you were taught to speak by the same people. Therefore you are Mycroft. Brother of my flatmate Sherlock" she said, her eyes bright and wide. Mycroft chuckled, twirling his umbrella in his hand in nervousness.

"It also appears Sherlock has taught you some things... Interesting development" he muttered surveying her from the corner of his eye. She smiled to herself, a faint pink blush appearing on her cheeks.

"Yes... yes he has" she whispered, her voice extremely warm and soft. Mycroft took in the warm smile on her face, and the darkened brown eyes. He patted her hand. She snapped out of her daydream and locked eyes with him.

"Karen... I warn you. Sherlock is a... difficult man to start something with, I mean he seems to have made some steps in the right direction, what with you and John but what you want from him... he's not in the right place to give right now" he said softly, dropping her hand sharply as if she had electrocuted him.

"Wha- what are you implying Mycroft... _What I want from him? _Look I don't know what impression you have of the relationship between myself and your brother but I can assure you I want nothing from him. Now if you don't mind, I will walk the rest of the way to Baker Street" she hissed, glaring stonily at the elder Holmes. He nodded under her ferocious gaze. She slammed the door, not seeing the smug smile of the man she'd left behind.


	11. Chapter 11: Not Like You

Not Like You

Karen called upstairs whether anyone needed anything from the shops. John shouted back that he wanted his usual paper; Sherlock rolled his eyes knowing full well that Karen was already planning on getting it and was asking for anything _else. _ Karen repeated this out loud. Sherlock smiled at Johns annoyed face opposite him.

Karen bounded into the living room- no sign of last night's trauma's on her face, except for slight black circles under her eyes from where they had sat up till 6 o'clock talking. Her horrific dream remained un-mentioned and she had eventually fallen asleep, her head on his shoulder, her breath gently tickling his neck.

"Need anything? Yes John I know ,your paper" she said raising a hand to John who had just slightly opened his mouth. Sherlock smiled at her.

"Very good" he mouthed.

"So nothing guys? Alright I'm off, and don't go texting me when I'm halfway home like you did last week, John" she said smirking, enjoying hers and Sherlock's new game of John baiting. She turned on her heel about to head out before grinding to halt.

Well aware that John was looking she covered the tiny amount of ground between her and Sherlock and placed her lips against his cheek. John's mouth dropped open as he witnessed Sherlock's cheeks go beetroot red- a stark contrast to the almost pure white skin on the rest of his face.

Karen laughed internally, before wandering out the door. Sherlock stayed frozen and flushed, staring at his laptop until they heard her feet on the stairs. John opened his mouth to comment but was silenced with a look from Sherlock.

The front door slammed, causing them both to jump. There was a stony silence as Sherlock practically dared John to make a comment.

"So what was that all abo-" John started.

"John don't!" Sherlock butted in looking at the window. John rolled his eyes.

"Aw come on Sherlock you went bright-" he began again.

"No John, don't!" Sherlock yelled jumping over to the window.

"SHERL-!" a definite female voice screamed from the street below, before being cut off. Sherlock and John only just made it to the window to see a now unconscious Karen being pushed into a black car. It sped off down the corner. No-body seemed to have even noticed that anything had happened. At the same moment Sherlock's phone bleeped.

Sherlock dived for it and visibly paled as he read the message.

_So careless, Mr Holmes. Letting her out of your sight where anyone can get hold of her. The lesson begins now Sherlock._

_-M_

"Moriarty... Karen" he whispered, closing his eyes. He could still feel where her lips had connected with his cheek.

* * *

Sherlock and John wandered into the school house, guns clasped behind them. This seemed horribly familiar but this time it wasn't only them in danger. But they also had an advantage, this time they were working together, and John was able to actually pull a trigger.

"Well done Mr Holmes" a cool voice came from an open door. They turned and pointed their guns at the voice ,faltering as they saw what or _who_ Moriarty was using as a shield. Karen was in John's place, bomb strapped to her chest, little red light flickering on her forehead, being manipulated by the man behind her. She was still but the look in her eyes told she was terrified. You didn't need to be a genius to work that out.

"You found me in less than an hour, Sherlock. I'm impressed" came that cold voice again. Sherlock opened his mouth to speak but was spoken over.

"Obvious, really. You're a creature of habit Moriarty. You always perform your murders in the same way, so it's likely that you'll visit a place where one of your previous crimes took place... even if it wasn't you personally. Especially as said crime involved Sherlock here and with the swimming pool disposed of, this was the logical choice. You probably even had a little play on words, like _let the lesson begin_, this being a school. You're so easy to read" Karen sneered, her voice calm and steady in a definitively Sherlockian tone- it was still hard to ignore her hands shaking slightly.

Moriarty looked confused for a moment before regaining his composure. Sherlock smiled proudly.

"I see now why you like her Holmes" Moriarty hissed, pulling Karen closer by putting a hand threateningly around her neck. She let out a small cry, which seemed to please Moriarty no end.

"She's like us" he continued, rubbing a finger over her vein in her neck. Karen pulled slightly away from him, showing Sherlock that Moriarty also had a gun pressed to her back. He had figured that with two of them and one of him he had to take some extra precautions.

"He's nothing like you" Karen hissed. "He's a good man and you're nothing but a piece of dirt. A clever piece of dirt but dirt none the-"she gasped as Moriarty enclosed his hand around her neck momentarily cutting off her air supply.

Moriarty smirked and his eyes met Sherlock's. Slowly he raised a hand and ran a single finger down her neck and across to her lips his eyes always on Sherlock. Karen whimpered and paled. The noise made Sherlock's blood boil. His hand continued to travel further south, the gun always pointing inwards towards the woman he was intentionally terrifying.

_Lips, cheek, back to neck, shoulder, collar bone..._

Sherlock grip on his gun tightened. He slowly raised it and pointed it directly at Moriarty's head. His hand stopped travelling.

"Don't you dare" he hissed. Karen looked at him.

"I can feel her heart beating Sherlock... its racing. Now I don't know if that's because of what I'm doing or because she's looking at you. Her knight in shining armour." He said pressing Karen to take a few steps forward. Sherlock opened his mouth but was once again cut off by Karen.

"If you're going to kill us Moriarty, just shoot me. I'll take the whole place up with me won't I?" she said a faint trace of laughter in her voice now, making it high pitched and wobbly. Moriarty frowned before doing an overdramatic sigh.

"When'd you work it out?" he said aiming the question towards Karen. She smiled in a Sherlock like way.

"6 years of studying bombs and what to do in a hostage situation. You wouldn't have pushed me forward like that... yes there is a bomb in this room but it most certainly isn't strapped to me" she said as it was the most simple thing in the world. Moriarty looked at Sherlock again. He looked slightly surprised.

"She's very good Sherlock." He said letting his grip on Karen relax but keeping the gun on her.

"Maybe worthy of someone like me... But she seems to have her sights set on you. Shame we would have made a fantastic couple" he mused out loud.

With that he pushed Karen forwards towards Sherlock. As quick as a flash she was shielded behind him and John, both of whom had guns raised, pointing at Moriarty who seemed to have every single trained sniper in the world pointing at the three of them. He didn't even bother to hold his gun in the air.

"But she is right a bomb is about to go off... let's see if you all can survive the third of my little bombs... well fourth time for you and Karen" . Sherlock froze as realisation dawned over him and a gasp from behind him confirmed that Karen had figured it out as well.

"You" she whispered, not bothering to remove the fake bomb from her chest. She pushed past Sherlock and stood eye to eye with Moriarty.

"You murdered my brother" she continued, very aware of the lights flashing warningly on her head. Moriarty smirked.

"I've had you singled out for nearly as long as Mr Holmes here, my dear. Of course it was for very different reasons as him, but I still had to remove your distractions." He hissed. His eyes flicked over her body, causing her stomach to squirm. It made her feel quite sick the way he looked at her.

Karen ashamedly felt tears spring to her eyes. She ripped the fake bomb off her and grabbed the gun that Sherlock was pointing at the sneering man. The gun from their time on the shooting range felt warm and familiar, and she at Moriarty is furious eyes. The man raised a hand and the lights on Karen flickered off.

"You going to shoot me Karen?" he said the same sneering expression on his face.

"Have you even shot a gun before?" he asked. Karen's lips flickered into a smile, and she shifted into the proper shooting stance, clicking off the safety. The noise echoed around the silent and tense room flooding with noise. Moriarty sneered again but paled slightly. Sherlock placed a hand on her shoulder; her arm was shaking below his grasp. There was blood seeping through wounds on her arms.

"Karen... you said it yourself. Your- not- like-him... now give me the gun" Sherlock whispered holding out his hand. Moriarty smiled sarcastically at him.

"Noble to the end Sherlock... if anyone's going to shoot me has to be you? Don't want to traumatise the poor girl any more than my men already have done" he sneered. Sherlock shook his head, trying not to visualise what they could have done to her. Karen let out a soft scream and moved forward towards Moriarty gun raised. She pressed it to his head. He simply looked down at her, that same condescending smile on his lips.

Karen stayed staring at the gun, pointing directly at his temple. After what seemed like an age, she dropped it to her side and looked up at him.

"We're not like you... you'll rot in jail, where you belong... I'm not like you" she whispered echoing her words from earlier, turning her back on him. Moriarty made a grab at her and she turned the gun still in her hand. It went off with a scream and Moriarty was propelled backwards, as another shot fired and the world exploded around them.


	12. Chapter 12: Won't Let You Slip Away

Won't Let You Slip Away

Karen's eyes flicked open, her ears ringing and she inhaled what seemed like her first breath in days. Her lungs were filled with ash and dust but that only confirmed what she alive. Injured, leg probably broken judging from the pain and bruising covering her arms and face, everything was blurry and her head and chest hurt like nothing she had ever felt but the pain reminded her that she was alive. Her eyes fuzzed around her as she heaved herself into a sitting position.

She gingerly got to her feet ignoring the pain in her leg, hopefully just a sprain. She looked around the room. There was rubble, ash, the remains of a fire and several bodies littering the room. Her eyes flicked around the room looking at the piles of rubble before they focused on something that made her breath catch in her chest. A suited arm, sticking out from beneath a huge pile of rubble.

She hobbled as fast as her leg allowed her over to the arm, clutching her right arm to her chest. She placed her fingers against the remains of a wrist, frazzled and burnt. Both John and Sherlock had been wearing suits that evening and she could not feel a single beat in the destroyed arm. Her eyes settled on a leather strap circling the wrist. She knew who it belonged to.

Neither John nor Sherlock had been wearing a watch, and the last person she saw who had, had been holding her by the throat. She dropped the wrist and squirmed away from it. Moriarty.

Her ears were still ringing and her eyes were watering from the dust in the air. She closed her eyes and cleared her mind the way that she had seen Sherlock do so many times in their late night chats. _Think about it, listen, watch, feel. _Sherlock's words echoed in her head. What could she hear? Fire crackling, wood cracking from the furniture and...

There, suddenly a voice called out from the darkness. Her eyes flew open. She heard it again; it was coming from the main pile of rubble. Then a second voice and it appeared to be calling her name. Her heart soared as she hobbled over to it.

"KAREN! WHERE ARE YOU! KAREN!" two voices shouted, before coughing. Karen sobbed. Sherlock and John.

"I'm here! I'll get you out!" she screamed at the pile. The voice stopped and she heard scrabbling.

"KAREN?" the first voice yelled again. Karen nodded violently pulling at the rubble, even though she knew they couldn't see her. A sudden wave of nausea and tiredness passed over her and she stumbled. She fought through it, occasionally wiping blood from her nose and forehead determined to get them out of there.

Slowly but surely with her pulling from the outside and them scrabbling at the foundations, John appeared in the hole they had made. Gingerly balancing on one foot and ignoring the pain in the other, she grabbed his hand and with a slight grunt, John emerged dusty and coughing but otherwise unharmed.

Another face appeared in the hole and Karen sat backwards cradling her foot. Her right arm hung limply from her side, she appeared not to have even noticed it yet.

"Karen? You ok?" Sherlock called from the darkness. John looked over at her before reaching for his friend's hand.

"Think she's got a broken arm, Sherlock. And a slight concussion I would say, she was thrown pretty far from the explosion... something else wrong with her foot. Her head looks pretty banged up. It's not good Sherlock" he said as Sherlock emerged groaning from the pile. He immediately rushed to Karen whose eyelids where dropping as if she was tired.

He cupped her face in the same way he had the night before after her nightmare, both hands under her chin, forcing her to look up at him.

"Karen... come on look at me... KAREN!" he shrieked as her eyelids closed.

"No need to shout" she said slowly and quietly. Sherlock sighed in relief as she opened her eyes. He could practically see the pupils of her eyes focus on him and light up slightly as the brain cells recognised him.

"Sh... Why... why does my arm hurt" she said doopily. Sherlock looked at her arm and paled as he saw a misshaped lump sticking out of it, just beneath the elbow.

"Karen... don't look at your arm" he whispered not wanting to look himself. Blood from a dead creature (human or not) he could deal with, but seeing fresh blood leak from a real person, alive and bleeding, it made his stomach turn especially since it was someone he really cared about. Karen of course, being human looked and immediately screamed. Her eyes rolled backwards and she sunk into a faint, the last thing she remembered being, arms reaching out to catch her, him finally seeing the true extent of the damage to her head.

* * *

Sherlock screamed for help as the stretched as he and John smashed through the hospital doors, an unconscious and heavily bleeding Karen outstretched in his arms, one of his hands hanging limp and a pained expression on his face but a determined gleam in his eyes. His hand was on her forehead, the blood from the wound there now flowing freely through John's compressed fingers, leaking onto her eerily pale face and onto Sherlock's arm.

Doctors in the emergency room jumped into action, grabbing the nearest stretcher and gently removing the now still woman from Sherlock's arms.

"Paddles now! She's lost a lot of blood, we need a blood bag here!" the man who had taken charge yelled into the emergency room. He rounded on the two men, practically running backwards as Karen was rushed towards resuscitation.

"What type is she?" he yelled, looking directly at Sherlock. He faltered, his eyes widening. John interjected immediately, yelling Karen's blood type at the man. The Doctor screamed at them to stay there, pushing them towards a chair as he bolter through the double doors.

Sherlock screamed Karen's name, trying to force himself out of John's strong grip. He yelped in pain as John's hand enclosed over his right wrist, gritting his teeth he continued to struggle, yelling her name at the double doors.

The commotion attracted the attention of two burly male guards; one ran helping John who shrieked in warning as the man approached with a needle in his hand. He plunged the instrument into Sherlock's skin, pressing the plunger and releasing the drug into Sherlock's bloodstream.

He immediately slumped to the floor, his legs going weak beneath him. John pressed his bloodied hands to Sherlock's face as his eyes slid shut, his voice distorted as he yelled about Sherlock's history and how this would be a setback. The final thing that Sherlock heard before slipping into darkness was a call of how a heartbeat had been obtained


	13. Chapter 13: Raging Fire

Raging Fire

She came to him that night. Purple and blue bruises still covered her arms, peeking out from beneath the cast and she still hobbled with the pain of her ex-dislocated still healing ankle. There was a gentle knock on the door. No answer. She knocked again, this time slightly harder. Still no answer.

"Sherlock?" she whispered, pushing the door open slightly. The room was pitch-black except a tiny light flickering in the darkness. Karen pushed the door open and took a step over the threshold. She could see the defined features of Sherlock's face being lit up as he flicked the switch on the lighter before closing the lid and extinguishing the flame, plunging himself back into darkness. The room flickered 3 more times.

Sighing, Karen used her good hand to turn the light on. Sherlock blinked, the sudden light blinding him. He turned, his face falling even further in shame as he saw who it was.

"Go away Karen" he muttered, looking back at the lighter. Karen took two small steps into the room.

"I wanted to see if you were ok" she whispered. Sherlock audibly growled.

"You've seen me, I'm ok, now will you please just go away!" he snapped, his face angry and contorted. His eyes were dark in anger. He stood and glared at her.

Karen took a sharp step back and whimpered as all her weight went onto her healing ankle. Her eyes filled with tears both with the emotional and physical pain. Sherlock face softened.

"Come and sit down" he whispered. Karen hobbled across the room, placing herself lightly on the bed. She winced and straightened out her leg. Sherlock peered at her with dark eyes, before going back to his lighter.

"How your wrist, Sherlock?" she asked without looking at him. Sherlock looked down at the strapped wrist, hanging limply and useless. His eyes narrowed. Weak... he was weak. Injured... Useless. Like his hand.

"Shit!" he yelped as the fire singed his fingers. He stuck them under his arm, dropping the lighter onto the bed. Karen quickly grabbed it, snapping it shut. She reached for Sherlock's hand. He pulled away from her sharply, falling backwards. She reached for him again, her eyes warm and inviting.

"Please... Sherlock" she whispered. Sherlock's eyes surveyed her as he gently placed his hand in hers. She ran her fingers over the burnt fingers, eyes trying to ignore the other burns from earlier on in the day. She pressed against a shiny, red burn in the centre of his hand. Sherlock winced.

"I'm sorry" she said, relieving the pressure slightly. She knew where he had gotten it... when he had raised his hands to shield her from the blast. She looked up from his hands to his face. There were small cuts and bruises littering his otherwise perfect face.

"Sherlock... you do know" she paused collecting her thoughts.

"What Moriarty's men did to me..." she said her voice no more than a whisper. Sherlock screwed his eyes shut not wanting to hear what she said next. They had only taken an hour to get to the school, but it had been enough. And he had seen it... he had seen it in her eyes, that dejected, defeated look that she had hidden so well when John and he had entered the building, that bravado that Sherlock himself often hid behind. They had found out exactly what had happened in hospital, whilst Karen was still unconscious. The doctors had found the brutal marks of violent beatings, torture... Strung up and beaten, leaving hundreds of fist shaped bruises over her body and neck. Welts. Burns, from where they'd stuck a red hot poker on her ribs.

_Torture. _The word in his mind, made his feel physically sick. Which is what had happened when they had found out, Sherlock fleeing the room and promptly being sick in a nearby flower vase, John going pale and beginning to cry at the though and Lestrade sinking into the beside chair, head in hands, heaving. The doctor at the hospital had tried to explain how it could have been a lot worse but had left the room quickly when he had 3 sets of furious eyes turn on him.

He looked to his side to see Karen looking at him. There it was again... that look, the pain. This time pure and open to the world. Here it came... Karen blaming Sherlock. Screaming at him. Telling him how she never wanted to see him again. Moving out of Baker Street. Losing her.

"It wasn't your fault" she said gently, squeezing his hand. Sherlock looked at her. That couldn't be true. Lestrade and John had both screamed at him, saying that he should have got there sooner. John had apologized since but Sherlock could still see the blame in his eyes. Lestrade hadn't spoken to him since. And here Karen was... the victim comforting him... The reason why it happened.

Sherlock shook his head violently, fighting back tears.

"It was!" he gasped. "I should have got there sooner... I should have figure- it out"

Karen looked at him, fighting back tears herself. He looked at his hands entwined in hers unable to meet Karen's eyes.

"Sherlock look at me" she whispered. He shook his head. She repeated herself, her voice slightly sharper.

He forced himself to look into her eyes.

"Sherlock... you got there in one hour... 1 hour... 60 minutes. You know how long it would take the average person to work that out? Probably only when the building had gone up in flames... and besides it would of mattered. People like them... they would do something like that even if they'd only had me alone for 5 minutes... it could have been a lot worse" she whispered, echoing the doctors words. Sherlock knew what she meant. He gagged and looked away ashamed. Karen looked deep into his eyes. A single tear appeared on his cheek.

Karen gently wiped the tear away. Her hands cupped his pale and tear stained face. She pressed her forehead on his. Leaning up she placed her lips against his forehead, eyes closed, trying desperately not to cry.

Sherlock quivered beneath her lips at the contact. She moved backwards, her eyes opening to meet his.

Sherlock reached out as one would try and touch ghost, running just the tips of his fingers down her cheekbone. He cupped her cheek and found himself short of breath as she nestled into it.

"Karen..." he whispered. She looked at him her eyes wide. Without thinking she leant forward and placed another light kiss on his neck, just in the hollow above the collar bone.

Sherlock breathed heavily through his nose, his eyes becoming darker with desire. He nestled into her neck, peppering kisses down it, paying particular attention to the smooth skin beneath her jaw. She moaned breathlessly, her eye closed and her head tilted back.

Sherlock felt a squirm in his stomach as he looked at the woman before him. Her cheeks were tinged pink, her chest was rising and falling raggedly in anticipation and her eyes were almost black with desire. Sherlock leant up on his elbows and leant forward.

There first kiss was warm, tender and comforting. Sherlock led it, moving her arms around her back, pressing her close, feeling her body against his. They broke apart. Karen looked at him, lips pink. This time she made the move. The second kiss was more urgent, quicker but still with the tenderness of before.

"Sherlock" she purred against his lips, leaning up to take his dark curls into her hands. She pulled him closer, her voice urgent and passionate. Sherlock kissed the point below her lips. It was now her turn to quiver under the others touch. She flushed furiously, flooding her cheeks with colour. Sherlock lips were beautifully soft and warm on her face.

Sherlock's path continued down, lips, jaw, neck, collar bone, he breathed into the hollow that she had kissed only minutes before. She moaned again, the noise going straight to his stomach. Sherlock pressed forward, pinning her beneath him.

Soft fingers were running up his arms, caressing the muscles, trying to push his suit jacket from his shoulders. It fell to the ground; fingers almost immediately began work on her shirt. Hands came up to meet his.

"Sherlock" she mumbled once more against his lips. He pulled away from her, his face and body hovering over hers. He nuzzled his lips against her neck, but found him being pulled away again.

"Are you sure about this?" she whispered, her voice raggedy. Sherlock didn't even bother to think again, his only words a whispered _yes_ as his lips dropped to meet hers once again.

* * *

Sherlock stared, his eyes roaming over the woman sound asleep beside him. Eyes closed, lips swollen and pink from the friction of the night before, chest rising and falling steadily, her breath just touching his face as she breathed out. Sherlock hadn't slept a wink that night, content merely to watch her sleeping in his arms.

Gently as not to disturb her, he eased his arm from underneath her. She moaned in her sleep at the sudden loss of warmth, rolling over before settling her head against the pillow. Sherlock smiled down at her beautiful, warm and _his. _He pressed his lips against her forehead, causing her to squirm and smile.

"Go away-"she murmured sleepily nestling into the pillow. Sherlock chuckled, before faltering. What was expected of him in this situation? He could safely say that he hadn't been in _this_ situation before. Tea seemed like the appropriate offering.

He slid his body from the bed, shrugging on his suit, discarded the night before and the worn old slippers, which he'd had for as long as he could remember. He made for the doors, only stopping to look back once at the woman lying in his bed. If he'd have known how the tables would have turned in 5 short minutes, he would have watched longer.


	14. Chapter 14: If I Could Turn Back Time

**BIT OF BAD LANGUAGE IN THIS BIT GUYS- BE WARNED... IT GETS ANGSTY AGAIN :/ AS YOU MAY HAVE GUESSED FROM THE ENDING OF THE LAST CHAPTER.7**

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* * *

**

If I Could Turn Back Time

"Good morning Mycroft... John" Sherlock muttered without looking up from the cup of tea he was stirring. Sure enough his flat-mate and his brother were staring at him from the sofa. John a face like thunder, eyes dark and threatening, Mycroft with his cool expressionless stare. Sherlock turned and returned their stares, stony faced. The silence remained, the three men in a showdown, eyes flickering between them.

"It's clear you want to say something you two... so go ahead" he sniffed, taking a sip of his tea. John ground his teeth.

"Sherlock... how could you?" he whispered, the quiet words overshadowed by the obvious anger in his voice. Sherlock surveyed him coolly, taking another slow sip of his drink.

"How could I... what John?" he replied. Mycroft looked at his brother. Typical Sherlock, the barriers are up again. John however having never truly experienced emotional Sherlock was unaware of this character quirk. His back rose like a jested cat and he hissed through his teeth.

"You know what Sherlock! You took advantage of Karen" he snarled, his face turning redder by the second. Sherlock remained stony faced.

"John... as much as it surprises me at your concern for Karen; I must suspect your motives. It doesn't have anything to do with your recent split with the lovely Sarah does it?" he asked his voice laced with implications. John remained silent. Sherlock not content with this raised a finger, and looked at his friend questions in his eyes.

"Jealous are we? As you lose a girl, I get _the_ girl?" he hissed cruelly. John jumped to his feet fists clenched, stopped only by a hand on his chest from Mycroft.

"John settle down... He gets like this... all part of you sociopathic charm huh Sherlock?" Mycroft said, voice calm and collected but with a sarcastic undertone to his voice. Sherlock merely glared at him.

Mycroft stood up, one hand still on John's shoulder stopping the quivering doctor from leaping on his brother.

"Which begs the question Sherlock, how you allowed yourself to get attached to this girl... don't say you're not Sherlock, your more than aware I've been watching you" he said as Sherlock opened his mouth to protest.

"I am protesting Mycroft... you know I'm unable to form attachments" he muttered. Mycroft laughed.

"And yet somehow you managed with... _Karen_, wasn't it?" he said her name like it was a deadly disease, ignoring the fact that not only had he met the girl a few weeks previously, he had actually _liked _her, although there was no way he would be telling this to anyone. Sherlock pinched his nose with his thumb and forefinger.

"Mycroft! Why must you always meddle... yes I slept with her, yes she's still lying in my bed and yes she was upset last night but if you must know she made the first move not me... Don't look at me like that John; I know what happened the night Sarah's cat died "he snapped at an aghast looking John, who immediately flushed bright red.

"Ah-but-you-Sherlock! That's not the point! And there is a slight difference between someone's pet dying and someone taking advantage of someone who was kidnapped and tortured." He snapped the redness in his cheeks now from anger.

"And you!" he screamed, turning on Mycroft finger pointing at his chest.

"Where were you when she was being kidnapped? Mr _keeping an eye on his brother... _would it have killed you for once to step in and help? You could have stopped it you complete and **utter bastard!**" he shouted hysterically. Sherlock bristled with anger.

"John! Don't you dare talk to my brother like that!" he snapped at his friend, in an uncharacteristic tone. John flinched and rounded on him.

"You're just as bad! You dragged me and Karen into this! Moriarty wouldn't have gone after her if it wasn't for you! She would have been fine if she was with me!" he snarled. Sherlock let out a sigh of realisation, he laughed, shaking his head.

"Oh and now we get to the crux of the matter. Is the real problem that I_ took advantage _of Karen or the fact that she didn't take solace in _your_ bed?" John howled and jumped forward, trying to strangle Sherlock. Mycroft jumped up simultaneously and held a yowling John and taunting Sherlock apart.

"YOU DONT LOVE HER! SHE'S JUST A DISTRACTION TO YOU! SHE'D BE BETTER OFF WITH ME!" John screamed from behind Mycroft's chest.

"Sure... she'd be better off with the failed army doctor, prone to nervous breakdowns and nightmares, than someone who will fulfil all her needs even though he can never truly feel what she feels!" Sherlock all but screamed. John and Mycroft however had stopped tussling and were staring behind Sherlock.

"Sherlock..." Mycroft whispered. Sherlock however was oblivious to this as he was in full rant mode.

"And yes... she could be considered a distraction, I mean sure I have no cases and I have nothing to do, and I was bored witless- oof!" he exhaled, as something collided into the back of him. Sobs were echoing from behind him.

"You disgusting-FU-PIG!" the person attacking his back sobbed. Sherlock span.

"Get off!" he shrieked, practically throwing the person off him. Karen collapsed before him, cradling her cheek where she struck the table. Her mouth was open and sobs were shaking through her body. Sherlock paled.

"Oh..." was all he could manage. Karen slowly got to her feet. Sherlock reached a hand out pitifully whispering her name.

"You... you... YOU BASTARD!"She screamed and punched him squarely on the nose. The sound ricochet around the silent room. She glared at him, watching the blood begin to pore from his nose. Sherlock clutched his nose, groaning.

"A distraction... Is that all I was to you? I fucking loved you!" she sobbed, fresh tears peeling down her cheeks, before turning on her heel and fleeing from the flat. Sherlock collapsed where he stood tears mixing with the blood flowing down his face.


	15. Chapter 15: Broken

Broken

John looked at his friend, sitting dejected on their sofa. He occasionally winced as he sniffed back the blood, causing pain in his obviously injured nose.

"Oh for Christ sake, Sherlock! Let him look at it." Mycroft said from the chair he was sitting in. Sherlock simply gave him one stony stare, before sighing and facing John.

John gritted his teeth resisting the urge to punch Sherlock himself, but his expression softened slightly as he saw the expression on his flat-mates face. He truly made a pitiful sight, dried blood surrounding his nose and mouth, more blood flowing from his nose.

"You deserved that Sherlock" he muttered as he prodded Sherlock's nose. He merely sniffed in reply.

"You called her a distraction... and as I understand, women don't really like that... Your ok not broken, _unfortunately"_ he said, leaning away from his friend. Sherlock looked up at him.

"_Mature_ John" he said rolling his eyes, no real anger or venom in his voice. He simply looked pathetic.

"John... I hope you realise that all my words were said in anger" he whispered. John scoffed.

"Yes, because I'm who you should be apologising to." he said gently, but looking at him pointedly. Sherlock nodded.

"Karen" he sighed. He looked at John who was watching him carefully.

"She won't forgive me you know... I called her a distraction- don't argue John you said it yourself" he said, without even having to look at his friend to see him open his mouth to suggest otherwise.

"Sherlock, you heard her... she said she loved you" Mycroft said in an almost caring tone. The abnormality was lost on Sherlock's depressed manner, however.

"I think you'll find that _loved _is the operative word there Mycroft... And I often find in my cases, that the more you care "he began, his voice breaking, thinking back to a such a wife who had hired him thinking that her husband had gone missing only to find that he was holed up with his lover. His _male_ lover. Her face morphed into Karen's devastated face from earlier.

"The more you care... The more it hurts" he finished, choking back tears. Mycroft had no answer to this.

"Look Sherlock... Do you care for her?" John asked. Sherlock looked up at him his mind ticking. _Did_ he care for her? Was this hurt caused because he... the great sociopath had developed feelings for another human being? His mind presented evidence for and against. The against, being the way he what he'd said before, the for, being every other moment they had spent together. And... He'd nearly told her, that night, dancing. He'd gone to say something, but she'd stopped him. Was she was afraid as feeling something as he was? She'd told him that she didn't trust people easily and yet she'd gone home with a person she'd only met hours before under less than trustworthy circumstances, she'd even saved him the day they'd met, she'd thrown herself into him regardless of her own safety to ensure that he was ok. Sherlock's face broke into an unfathomable expression and he nodded staring at the floor. Did he care for her? He most defiantly did.

"Why did I push her away" he moaned, placing his head into his hands. John patted him awkwardly on the back.

"We always do to people we love the most?" he murmured thinking of Harry and making a mental note to call her later.

Mycroft's phone beeped. He picked it from his pocket and scanned the screen.

"She's at Lestrade's" he said. Sherlock breathed an audible sigh of relief. She wasn't harmed. He leapt to his feet, shrugging on his coat. John looked at him wide eyed.

"Sherlock... Lestrade is going to _kill _you" he said no hint of sarcasm in his voice. Sherlock thought for a moment, before shaking his head.

"I need to know John... If there's any chance" he whispered running from the flat, John hot on his heels, Mycroft causally walking behind them, muttering to his driver on the phone.

* * *

As the black Mercedes pulled up at Arnolds Road, Sherlock was fidgeting, John was nervously wringing his hands and Mycroft was calm in a way that only Mycroft could be in a situation like this.

"STOP!" Sherlock screeched as the level with number 56, the driver clearly used to situations like this didn't slam on the brakes but merely slowed smoothly to a halt. He did raise his eyebrows however at his boss's brother wrenching the car door open before they'd even stopped, barely missing a bollard.

"For Christ sakes Sherlock, you'll break your neck!" John shouted, jumping out after him and promptly slamming into Sherlock's back. He peered around Sherlock's back and paled.

"On second thoughts...I think I would prefer breaking my neck to what's waiting for you" he muttered. Sherlock raised an eyebrow.

"Quite" he replied.

Anderson and Donovan were flanked one on each side of the door step, arms crossed; furious expressions on their faces, Anderson had one shaking hand on Donovan's arm stopping her from charging down to meet Sherlock. Sherlock's brain decided this was the perfect time to remind him that it wasn't only Lestrade that was fond of Karen down at the police station.

Sherlock took a small step forward, hand raised in surrender.

"I only want to see Karen" he said, quietly. Sally snorted.

"Nice injury there Sherlock... Did she do that?" she half, growled half laughed gesturing to his nose. Sherlock gingerly felt it, it had finally stopped bleeding. He nodded and the two burst out into fake laughter.

"Good girl" Anderson laughed, still glaring at Sherlock. John and Mycroft walked out from behind Sherlock, flanking him on either side.

"Look guys... He wants to apologize" John called from his right. Sherlock looked down at his friend touched at his sudden defence. The two gargoyles guarding the door cackled again.

"Like we're going to let him see her..." Sally shouted. Sherlock could see curtains twitching in the houses in the street. Sally appeared to as well.

"You really hurt her freak... she deserved better than that, especially after what she's been through these last few years... Now go before Lestrade gets back" she hissed, her voice quieter, but still furious. Sherlock's eyes lit up. There it was... hope. Lestrade wasn't in. He shook his head.

"I'm not leaving until I talk to her" he called, raising his arms. The curtains twitched again, including this time, the ones from the house he was yelling at. Familiar eyes peered out.

He ran forward into the gate, shrugging off John's hands. The eyes disappeared.

"KAREN!" he screamed, Anderson pushing him back. Donovan disappeared into the house. Sobs came from inside the house, disappearing when the door slammed shut. He was sure that he'd heard his name somewhere in them.

"Get the hell out of here!" Anderson groaned with the effort of trying to force a pushing Sherlock back. He broke free, running forward once more and began hammering on the door.

"KAREN!" he shrieked again, ignoring Anderson pulling him away.

"Go away!" Sally's voice shouted from inside the house. The neighbours had stopped their twitching and were openly staring at the scene.

"I'm not leaving till I talk to Karen!" he yelled practically sticking his mouth through the letter box.

"SHE DOESNT WANT TO TALK TO YOU" Sally screamed wrenching the door open, causing Sherlock to fall backwards into Anderson. The landed on a heap on the ground.

"Get off me... freak" he muttered, pushing a dazed Sherlock from him. John kneeled down next to his friend helping him up.

"Come on Sherlock... we'll try again another day" he whispered gently. Sherlock shook his head ferociously.

"I'm not leaving until she talks to me" he muttered, his brain still working to keep up with the current situation.

Mycroft stepped forward and faced the furious policemen.

"Look guys... he merely wants to apologize. At least give him a chance to put it right" his voice, the pitch perfect voice of reason. John swore that he nearly saw their faces soften. It seemed they were in with a chance... until.

"WHAT ON EARTH IS HE DOING HERE!" a voice bellowed from behind them. The three turned, Sherlock unwillingly since he was still being supported by John. Lestrade was standing behind them, broken bottles spilling from the bags he dropped in anger, red faced and huffing to control himself.

Sherlock untangled himself from John's grasp, still unsteady on his feet. He made towards Lestrade. Not smart, the man seemed to be losing control.

"Look Giles, I want to apolo-"he was silenced with another sharp blow to his face. For the second time that day, Sherlock Holmes, the great detective was punched directly on the nose. This time however, a sickening crunch came from it. John winced. _Broken._

"You stay away from Karen! I warned you! What I would do if you hurt her, but you assured you had and I quote _no romantic interest in her! _Teach me to take the word of Sherlock Holmes... Now get out of here now!_" _Lestrade yelled, finger pointing at Sherlock's chest. Sherlock shook his head. He began to talk, ignoring the fresh blood dripping into his mouth.

"That's not something I can promise, Giles... I lov-"

"Don't you dare... DONT YOU **DARE!**" Lestrade interjected. Sherlock shut up immediately, eyes welling up with the emotional and physical pain.

"You don't do something like that to someone you like, let alone someone you lo-" he choked on the words unable to comprehend them.

"Get of my property Sherlock" he whispered rubbing his face. Sherlock opened his mouth.

"No seriously Sherlock, get off my property... **_before I do something I really regret" _**he said threateningly. John and Mycroft saw immediately that this was no idle threat. You do not cross the inspector when he was this angry.

"Come on Sherlock" Mycroft whispered gently, taking his brother by the arm. Sherlock nodded, barely aware of John steering him with his other arm towards the car.

"Back to Baker Street" John whispered. Sherlock was silent the whole way home.

He didn't even object when John fixed his nose, merely sniffing as he placed the strap on his nose. John decided as he looked at the man before him, the light gone from his eyes, the wondering mind silenced, that his nose wasn't the most important thing that was broken that day.

* * *

**I'M TRYING TO GET THIS FIC FINISHED ASAP, I KNOW WHERE ITS GOING IT'S SIMPLY A MATTER OF GETTING MY IDEA'S TOGETHER AND THEN I CAN FOCUS ON OTHER STORIES :D NEXT CHAPTER WILL BE IN KAREN'S POV.**


	16. Chapter 16: Hurts The Most

Hurts the Most

Karen's eyes flashed open. A moment's unbridled joy, before the memories of the last few weeks came back. She groaned, flopping backwards onto her pillow. Without her brothers case to occupy her mind and a distinct loss of a distraction in the form of him, she'd sunk deeper into a depression than she'd ever had before.

She winced at the thought _distraction_. That's all she'd come to think of_ him_ as, as a sort of unspoken acceptance that she felt the same way that he did. That he was merely a distraction to her, as she was to him.

_"Then why do you still dream about him at night?" _the evil side of her brain jested.

"Just a distraction!" she hissed, clutching her head to enforce the thought. Her inner voice laughed.

_"You just keep telling yourself that..." _it muttered in return. Karen closed her eyes once more, laying flat on her bed, hair splayed around her. She prayed that all of it _had_ been a dream, which her brother was going to wake her up any moment, and was going to tell her that a man had been looking for her. A man with jet black hair and striking blue eyes, fully able to receive and reciprocate her love. Her heart gave her one single pang to remind her that it was very much real. Her brother had been dead 6 years, and no amount of imagination could have conjured up the bitterness and spitefulness in his voice as he'd uttered those words.

_"I was bored witless... I was bored witless... I was bored witless" _the words seemed to echo around her head, like a song that you couldn't stop singing. Except a song doesn't make you want to cry every time it enters your brain. That spitefulness. The way he'd said it. He was bored, and everyone around him knows how far he would go to stop being bored. John had told her stories. Drugs. Alcohol. Danger. He'd had her shaking her head, nearly in tears at the lengths he'd gone in the past.

_ John. _That was another part of life at Baker Street she missed. That male friendship that just couldn't be replicated. Even after his admission that he had feelings for her.

She'd tried to meet up with him a few times, but every time she'd seen a shock of black hair and those eyes peering from over a newspaper in the corner. She doubted John had even known that he'd been followed, by _him_. She'd always fled before John had even noticed what was going on but many times she had heard yelling echoing from the establishment she'd just run from. Away from him.

Her brain actually refused to say his name after the first night. She'd spent it sobbing, screaming his name at the walls, whilst Giles and Sally tried to calm her down. Three nights and multiple sleeping tablets, she finally managed to sleep, and she'd cried no more. Not a single tear and she hadn't uttered his name since then. The only time she ever saw him was her dream version of him, a man more like her, who'd arrive at her door, bunch of flowers in hand, kiss her on the lips and take her to dinner or the cinema. Not someone who'd turn up at her door and drag her along to a crime scene in the middle of the night.

"You wouldn't have had it any other way" she whispered barely realising she'd said it aloud. There was a call from downstairs. Giles. He was leaving for work, still reluctant to simply leave her without telling her. She nodded aware that he couldn't see her. She sighed getting to her feet, checking her phone. There was nothing, there never was. It appeared he'd given up on her. She chucked her phone to her bed. As had she on him.

There was a brisk chill in the air. Karen wrapped her coat and scarf around her. It was a flimsy thing that she'd bought when she'd left Baker Street. Most of her stuff still remained there, most likely thrown out by him; he wouldn't want any distractions she thought bitterly. She let out a huff of breath and threw herself onto a park bench. She sat in silence, barely noticing the rain starting and her hair sending slight droplets of water down her neck. The rain turned from a light spattering into a full blown shower and yet she remained still. Suddenly as quickly as it started, the rain stopped falling on her and a shadow fell over her body.

"Hello Karen" a voice greeted her. She looked up to her right and found a familiar but not entirely unwelcome face looking down solemnly at her. She looked back down at her hands.

"Hello Mycroft" she sniffed, refusing to address him the way she normally would have. The elder _Holmes_. _Mr Holmes. _Even his surname made a pang of sorrow and hurt go through her.

"May I sit down?" he continued in his clipped upper crust tones. The accent made a shiver go through her. She remembered the night with _him_ before it had all blown up in her face, those lips nestling into her neck, gently nipping and sucking claiming her as his and his voice whispered her name.

"You're going to anyway" she managed to choke out. The man sat beside her, she involuntarily scooted away from him, returning only when she realized that the only dry patch on the bench was under Mycroft's umbrella. She looked up at the fabric, looking at every pattern in its soft obviously expensive lining.

"I don't think I've ever seen you use this before" she muttered, to herself. Mycroft laughed a deep booming chuckle that vibrated through their touching arms. Once again Karen was reminded of his brother, that same chuckle as she accidently tickled his cheek and nose with her hair before fading away into a moan as she replaced them with her lips.

"Stop it!" she whispered defeated. Mycroft stopped almost immediately. He sobered up looking embarrassed at his loss of control.

"You're quite right. Considering the circumstances..." he trailed off, looking out into the world beyond the umbrella. Karen surveyed him. That expression as he watched a couple walking arm in arm, the man having given the woman his coat. Karen sniffed dejectedly.

"Mycroft... what do you want?" she asked after another minutes silence. He raised a brow looking down at her pointedly.

"I know you're not just here for a little chat, you always want something... what do you want?" she repeated, returning the look. Mycroft sighed.

"I... I wanted to see if you were alright" he said, pursing his lips. Karen frowned at him.

"Couldn't you just have called Giles- Lestrade" she corrected herself remembering that after their argument at his front door, Mycroft on _his_... brother's behalf that they weren't really on first name bases. Mycroft repeated this.

"Besides" he continued "He only would have said your fine, I needed to see for myself".

Karen snorted.

"_See for myself,_ meaning your brother I presume?" she said accusingly. Mycroft remained stony faces and shook his head.

"You mean you came out in the pouring rain to talk to me, for no other reason than that?" she asked, sarcastically. He nodded in reply.

"Oh If you care so much how did someone like you end up with a brother like that?" she hissed not really knowing or caring what she was saying

"Karen, my brothers a good man. A little misguided and a bit out of control with his emotions, but deep down he cares as much as I do" he replied.

"But honestly, I came for me, perhaps John a little bit but mainly me" he whispered sadly. Karen softened, only having to hear his voice, not even look into his eyes to tell he was telling the truth.

"You mean you genuinely care about me?" she asked perplexed, still trying to process the information. Mycroft nodded.

"She seem surprised, is it such a shock that I worry about people, I do belong to the government you know" he answered.

"That makes it even more surprising" she muttered her face breaking into a proper smile for the first time in the conversation. Mycroft laughed again.

"That's why I like you Karen; you've got such a way about you. You remind me so much of my sister, she would have come out with something like that-" his voice faltered.

"Alexandra" she whispered. Mycroft surveyed her.

"I see you heard about her. Yes, you're very much like her, spirited, funny, charming, and energetic and then- she just fell down the stairs and got a bruise, that simply wouldn't go away. She was gone within 5 months. She- he never really recovered." He corrected himself as he saw her wince at the beginning of his name.

"You feel like someone's taken a part of you away when you lose a sibling... I felt like someone has taken my right arm when David died" she gasped. Mycroft put an arm around her. She sighed leaning against his shoulder.

"I understand more than most, younger brother correct?" Mycroft muttered. Karen nodded, inhaling. He smelt so different to him. Sure they were sitting in a bench, in a park, in the middle of London, but the difference was so evident. He had always smelt like old books, burning paper (no doubt due to his frequent experimentation) and tea. Before meeting him Karen hadn't even known there was a smell to tea, she knew now and frequently inhaled the scent before drinking. Mycroft smelt like some posh aftershave, no doubt bought for him by his assistant, him simply splashing it on in the morning. It wasn't a specifically bad smell just more grown up than his brother. She inhaled again, closing her eyes embracing the scent. This is what she needed in life a grown up.

"Karen? What are you doing?" Mycroft whispered hearing her inhaling. She looked at him, her eyes meeting his, a strange expression on her face. For a moment, she peered into his eyes, flickering to his lips, her brain willing her to reach upwards and pull the man to her. To wrap her arms around him, hold him tight and to have him kiss her back. She looked down at Mycroft's hands that were wringing together under her scrutinising glare.

"I- I can't do this Mycroft. I- it's hi-" she said, gently allowing her eyes to close and placing her face into the crook of his neck. His breathing shallowed, as her breath came warm and steady on his neck. Tears began to drip onto the skin there and small sobs began to wrack through her body. His arms enclosed around her back, hands running soothingly up and down it and the man whispering into her hair.

"I get it Karen. You love him. I've known from the first day I met you. "He whispered, only a tiny note of sadness in his voice. Karen picked up on this immediately, letting out another tiny small laugh.

"I'm sorry Mycroft. By breaking off contact with him, I've exiled myself from you. And you've done nothing wrong, you or John. I didn't mean to hurt you." She groaned, allowing her hair to fall into her face.

"The more you care the more it hurts" Mycroft muttered to himself. Karen looked up from her hands, tears and rain streaking makeup down her face. She nodded to herself.

"Yes... If you care you're the one who will suffer the most. For the one who doesn't care the pain is lessoned. Your bro- Why are you looking at me like that?" she stopped as Mycroft turned those deductive eyes on her.

"Don't be fooled Doctor Johnson, your far too clever for that, for it was not I who said that in the first place" he said, his voice back to its smooth business like tone. Karen frowned at him. Mycroft used this opportunity to place a piece of paper into her outstretched hand.

They both stared for a moment, allowing two solitary drops of rainwater to drip from the umbrellas spokes onto the paper, before Mycroft curled her hand over it.

"Look at the post Doctor Johnson" he whispered, placing his lips over her hand. With Karen still perplexed and wondering about the sudden change in situation, only looking back when he knew that she'd turned to go back to her own flat. He smiled to an unseen woman, who followed Karen, who always followed Karen, but not under _his_ orders.


	17. Chapter 17: The Ignorance Of Love

The Ignorance of Love

Karen looked once more at the scrawl on the piece of paper that Mycroft had given to her, a single phrase. Her laptop pinged as Google opened before her, the search box flashing temptingly before her. She typed in the phrase, pausing for a moment, biting the insides of her cheek as she pressed enter.

Breathing a sigh of release, her eyes scrolled to a hit that made her stomach jolt. She clicked on it, knowing immediately it was the correct post that Mycroft wanted her to read.

_That Heart of His by Dr John Watson._

_Firstly I must apologize for the previous post. It's now been deleted. It appears that even when Sherlock's drunk- _

Karen's breath caught in her throat as she read his name. The first conscious time in weeks that his name had entered her mind, and it hurt. Physically hurt. Feelings came flooding back, they're time together, that night together and how he'd broken her heart with his cruel vindictive words. Taking another sharp breath she gathered herself and read further.

_-he still has the ability to hack into my laptop. I swear the man see's me changing the passwords. I don't have the heart to argue with him. He's a broken man, as many of my repeat visitors will know from previous posts._

_The Science of Deduction has been left to wrack and ruin. Countless emails flood into my inbox every day, the phone never stops beeping, the landline never stops ringing, hundreds of cases every day, Lestrade, Mycroft, even his mother, sending things that we all know he would find interesting. But he doesn't do anything about it. He sits in his room, drinking, smoking; doing god knows what else up there. Everything except the things that he should be doing. I mean this is not the man I moved in with._

_I haven't been woken up by the violin in 2 weeks. I haven't seen him touch it in more weeks than that; it sits there in the corner of the room as dejected as its owner. He hasn't experimented for much longer, the last I recall being how many painkillers he can take without passing out. He claims that was an experiment, but who doesn't know that 12 painkillers and a shed load of other drugs will end in him in hospital with his stomach being pumped. There are much more sinister plans at work here. He wants it to end and with this self deprivation and harm, the time of loss seems to be closing in, even with me watching his every move._

Karen whimpered reading the final words over and over again. There was another post above it, the date only yesterday. With a shaking hand and tears in her eyes she tentatively clicked it.

_The Ignorance of the Detective by Dr John Watson_

_Dearest Readers,_

_A lot has happened in the last two weeks. For one the great detective actually emerged from his room, and what a sight. In all my years as a doctor, to see someone that I care deeply about in a state such as that. It breaks my heart all over again._

_When Karen left, Sherlock simply lost the will to live. He claimed he was fine, and yet he allowed himself to sink into the deep blackness of depression, missing her. And I don't care what he says, I watch him sleep. I have to, to ensure he doesn't do anything stupid. He cries, every night, whimpering her name._

_I told you once that Sherlock Holmes can see through everything and everyone but is spectacularly ignorant; well I have to say my diagnosis has changed a little. Everyone. The man cannot for the life of him see through himself. He can't deduct why he's hurting even though he must know subconsciously why. He fell in love. And he hurt her. And this guilt, this terrible guilt is killing him. It's hurting him more than the drink and the self harm combined. And he knows it. He wants the pain; it's the only thing that keeps him alive._

_The more you care the more it hurts. He said it himself._

Karen slammed the lid of her laptop down, raising her hands to her face. Tears where streaming down her cheeks. The thought of him doing that to himself. With that she ran from the room, leaving her money, phone and coat behind her. The only thing she had grasped in her hand was her keys.


	18. Chapter 18: Taking A Chance

Taking A Chance

She got thrown out of the cab into the pouring rain three quarters of the way to Baker Street, the cabbie, with his leering at her rain spattered blouse had slammed on the brakes and literally demanded her out of his cab after she'd discovered that she'd left her money at home. She'd screamed and hopped, rain flying into her face and body, making her shiver before a wrinkled faced, smiling man picked her up. He'd driven her to Baker Street, her jumping out of the car as soon as it ground to a halt outside 221b, looking at the familiar architecture.

"I'll pay you back later" she called through chattering teeth. The man merely smiled and waved her away.

"Go get him love" he whispered. Karen thanked him with a kiss on his whiskered cheek. Fumbling with the keys with shaking fingers, she managed to place the correct key into the door, twisting it and wrenching the door wide open.

"Was that who I think it was?" a familiar voice came from 221a as she thundered up the stairs, nearly slipping twice in her wet shoes.

"Karen?" a soft male voice said from below her. John. Her mind ignored this fact and threw herself up the stairs, pushing the door open with one fell swoop. Eyes flicked up from the sofa to meet her.

"Oh my-"she whispered, looking at the fallen detective. His eyes, were extremely dull none of their usual illumination. They were red rimmed, tears falling steadily down his cheeks, which appeared to have been shaved by erratic shaking hands. Cuts littered his hands, face and arms, particularly deep ones shows by his rolled up sleeves. An ashtray with hundreds of used cigarettes was lying on his stomach, the ash spilling out onto his expensive dress shirt. _Sherlock._

Her voice comes out as a hoarse whisper. The eyes that didn't belong to that face flickered for a single moment, returning to their usual ferocious splendour.

"It appears the withdrawal symptoms have a terrible sense of humour. Meaning that my mind has an awful sense of humour" Sherlock practically growled at her. She flinched at the harshness in his voice.

"Withdrawal symptoms" she whispered, her voice breaking more and more with every second in his presence. Sherlock smirked and Karen felt her heart putter in her chest.

"Yes... you're a hallucination brought on by me trying to give up on the drugs. It appears my body knows me far too well; you're giving me memories of the one person I want to forget. The one reason I want to switch my brain off" Sherlock groaned getting to his feet. Fixing Karen with a stare, he crossed the room, peering down at the frozen woman.

"Got you more accurate than normal" he muttered, crouching down to look her deep in the eye. He leaned forward inhaling her scent, causing her hair to ruffle slightly. Her eyes closed as he leant away from her. Sherlock sat back on his haunches, frowning.

"Even got the perfume that she used to wear" he muttered. Karen inhaled subconsciously; there barely noticeable was her perfume.

"Hypnotic Poison" she whispered, her eyes flickering open to meet the stormy grey eyes. They frowned again, darkening.

"Why on earth- would I choose to remember that?" he said, cocking his head. Karen shrugged.

"Maybe because I'm real and you're not remembering me" she whispered. Sherlock let out a groan, walking and flopping onto the sofa.

"Urgh- dull, cliché. Of course a hallucination would- oh" he stopped short as Karen walked over and gently cupped his cheek with her hand. His eyes flashed to the hand touching his cheek.

"That's... not so cliché" he muttered, his eyes locked on the slender hands that were caressing his cheekbones. A quivering hand reached upwards hovering over the spot where she was touching him.

Karen looked at him, his eyes soft, daring to believe what was happening. They kept flashing over her face, of disbelief apparent in them. Reaching upwards, Karen allowed her fingers to brush against Sherlock's hand, bringing it upwards to mimic her actions on her cheek.

His fingers twitched in their trapped position between her hand and face.

"This. Can't. Be. Happening. Its. Cruel" he stammered, running his fingers down her face, his other hand gently stroking her hair.

"Why is it cruel?" she whispered, her voice hushed and her eyes closed.

"Because when you disappear, it'll kill me." Came the quiet reply. His hand clenched over hers, entwining their fingers.

"Are you going to disappear... _Karen. _Please don't disappear" he whimpered, looking her dead in the eye for the first time, clenching onto her hand like a dying man. Her hand skated up to his chest, feeling his heart beneath his shirt.

"No, I'm here Sherlock. I promise." She whispered, her eyes meeting his again.

He jumped to his feet, him looking down at her, his chest rising and falling in ragged gasps. With her looking up at him from beneath her lashes, he gently cupped her cheek, his breath coming out in a quiet whoosh as she closed her eyes and gently nestled into his warm hand, her hair tickling the back of his arm where it cascaded silkily over his skin.

With that, he pulled her close, pulling her into a hug and inhaling her scent. She was skinnier that she had been since the last time he'd seen her, her eyes were red-rimmed from crying recently and she had dark rings under her eyes. With a pang in his chest Sherlock realized that he had caused all of this.

Karen sensed him tensing in her grasp, and pulled away slightly from his arms. A fleeting expression of panic crossed over his angular features, him expecting her to turn and run again. This melted as she went up on her tiptoes and gently pressed her lips to his. Suddenly everything seemed like it was before, she was in his arms and she was kissing him like she had before.

His arms crept slowly around her waist, him smirking for a moment as her hands snaked from behind his back and pushed his hands into place. They broke apart for air, a chuckle on Karen's lips. Sherlock however had turned deadly serious.

"Karen- you need to know, I- I didn't-" he was cut off by Karen laying a finger over his lips, her eyes glistening with tears. She shushed him, her other hand coming up to brush a stray curl from out of his eyes. Her hand rested on his cheek and he closed his eyes at the touch.

"I know- I know Sherlock. Mycroft and John explained everything- John unintentionally so." She whispered. Sherlock groaned as realization set in.

"What's John been saying on his blog" he said slowly, his eyes dark and worried. Karen thought for a moment- before deciding that the truth was the best option.

"He was saying what you were getting up to- hurting yourself because of me leaving, that you were crying in the night- taking drugs, and..." she faltered for a moment, looking at the floor. Sherlock looked at her pointedly.

"And?" he said. She took a deep breath.

"And- he said you fell in love with- me" she said slowly. She dared to look him in the eye, where he was frowning down at her slightly. Her heart skipped a beat, panic rising in her chest; she allowed her head to drop downward, her eyes looking at his feet.

Sherlock placed a finger under her chin, raising her face. She looked at the wall behind him.

"Look at me Karen" he said softly, echoing her words from that fateful night. She looked at his stormy grey eyes and it took all her willpower not to run from the flat or kiss him again where he stood.

"Not that it was any of his business to go putting that on his blog- but its true" he said, his voice low and slow. She nodded, her stomach churning and fluttering like butterflies.

"I- I love you, always have, and always will. It just took me a bit longer than most to realize it. I can understand why you wouldn't want to be with me after what I did and what I said, and I won't try to stop you if you want to go, but I needed to know that." he said. He stopped speaking faltering as the silence and Karen's face speaking volumes.

Her face lit up with a smile and she captured his lips with him again, practically throwing herself into his arms and kissing him ferociously.

"You idiot" she mumbled against his lips, her fingers entangled in his hair. He nodded, gasping for breath.

"Yes- I'm an idio-"he yelped as Karen pushed him onto the couch. She sat down next to him, her head resting on his lap and his fingers gently stroking her hair.

"Let's take this a bit slower Sherlock- if we want this to go somewhere, we need to take things slowly" she said, gazing up at the stained ceiling. Sherlock placed his freehand behind his neck and he smiled as Karen shifted upwards into the crook of his arm.

"So- no more cases?" Sherlock said slowly. Karen laughed, the vibrations rocking through both their bodies due to the close proximity. She span so they were face to face.

"No- I didn't mean that kind of slow Sherlock- I wouldn't expect you to give up such an important part of your life for me" she said. Sherlock sighed, smoothing her hair back from where he's brushed it forward into her face.

"But _you're_ the most important thing in my life, I would give them up for you" he said thoughtfully. Karen shook her head.

"No you wouldn't, your married to your work-""No I would, in a heartbeat for you." He said stopping her in her speech. Her eyes roamed over his face and she smiled as she looked in his eyes.

"Well... good thing you don't have to choose then" she said. Sherlock sighed again.

"And-I don't know what to do about John" he said, his eyes on the ceiling again. "He- has feelings for you as well" he finished, his voice getting quieter as he spoke.

"I know" Karen said, causing Sherlock's eyes to look at her in puzzlement.

"I'm not blind- he's liked me since my 2nd week here- but I've liked you longer. Ever since the police station, I felt it then and there. Then you broke into my flat and the feeling cooled a little, but you quickly redeemed yourself, I'll just have to let him down gently- I hope he doesn't hate me too much" She whispered the last part. Sherlock cupped her face again.

"No-one could ever hate you- you can't help who you fall in love with and who you don't fall in love with, even though you would be safer with him" he said, raising his eyebrows.

"And who says I even want safe?" she said. "Besides if I went off with him, I doubt you would stop hanging round like a bad smell, and then we'd hardly be safe." She hissed the final word like a swear word.

"Besides, I couldn't do that to Molly again-" she said thoughtfully.

"Molly? Wha- what's she got to do with it?" Sherlock said confused. Karen chuckled, rolling her eyes and placing her head in her hands.

"Oh you are so blind sometimes- she was in love with you but she realized you liked me. So she turned her attentions to John, if I now go after him I doubt she would forgive me again." She said, shaking her head. Sherlock hummed.

"Molly likes John? Who'd have thought it?" he said. Karen placed her head back on his chest looking up at him with her eyes huge.

"We'll have to get them together" she said. Sherlock waved a hand about.

"They'll sort it out sooner or later- I'm sure John will realize soon" he said pointedly, looking at the door. Karen span, looking at the door to the living room, she bit her lip to stifle a laugh.

"But he'll have to make the first move- Molly would never make the first move, ask her out for a coffee, go to the cinema, cliché but she'd like it- we could even go as a double make it easier on the two of them" she said, looking at the closed door.

John took his hand from the door and made up to his room, his phone already dialling Molly's number.

Karen and Sherlock were laughing quietly as they listened to John's retreating footsteps and his voice as he began the uneasy conversation with Molly.

"Do you think he realized?" Karen said her voice shaking with laughter. Sherlock shrugged.

"He's not as dumb as he looks, does it really matter? If they're happy" he said pointedly. Karen smiled down at him.

"No I suppose not" she whispered. "And if we're happy?" she said a question on her voice. Sherlock propped himself up on his elbows, slightly tipping Karen off his chest so that she was sitting on his legs.

"Oh-That'll be a bonus" he said softly, pressing his lips to hers again. She moaned as his hand slid up her back and he began to slowly rub circles with his hand.

"Big- bonus" she managed to murmur between kisses. Sherlock's lips twitched into a smile against hers.

"Hmmm... oh and Karen" he began, pulling away from her. She looked up at him, her face flushed and her eyes glittering.

"We're not going on a double date with John and Molly" he said. She simply laughed pulling his lips to hers once more.

* * *

**EWWWW! CORNY ENDING ALERT! RIGHT THAT'S IT FOLKS. THATS THE FINAL CHAPTER. HOPE YOU'VE ENJOYED READING IT AS MUCH AS I'VE ENJOYED WRITING IT. LOOK OUT FOR MORE SHERLOCK FIC'S COMING SOON (MAY OR MAY INCLUDE ONE-SHOTS WITH KAREN, MAYBE THIS MYTHICAL DOUBLE DATE... WHO KNOWS, YOU KNOW AS MUCH AS I DO AT THE MOMENT)**


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